Scratch It
by NS- Leclair
Summary: NS Nick needs to get someone out of his system FIN
1. Sounds Interesting

Title: Quarantine

Rating: R

Summary: Nick needs to get someone out of his system. (NS)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not make millions of dollars off of the characters and win awards – all that kind of nonsense. Alas, I did not create them nor do I owe them but if I owned George, I would be a very happy woman… in and out of the bedroom.

A/N: If you do not like things such as obscene language – though there won't be very much of it – or sexual situations, if you will, then this is definitely not the fic for you and unfortunately, I don't think any of my fics are for you. Plus, I am not an expert at writing about other peoples' characters as not many of us are, so if it does not sound like something that character would say, I'm sorry. I'm trying my best here. : D

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Chapter One: Sounds Interesting

He had a fistful of her wavy chestnut hair and a mouthful of her lips as he backed her up into the edge of the break room table. Without severing the intense kiss he had her enthralled in, his hands hooked under her thighs to hitch her legs around his waist. There was a fraction of a second where Nick Stokes honestly thought that he had stopped breathing all together when her hand reached in between them and carefully unzipped his jeans, relieving uncomfortable pressure against his groin.

"Damn, Sara," he groaned into her ear as she worked her hand into his pants, past the cotton of his boxer briefs. His drawl was laid on thick and it sent shivers down her spine.

It had taken him years to get where he was now, nearly screwing Miss Sara Sidle on the table in the break room, and he was not about to let the opportunity slide. There was no one around since it was well after shift and when Nick saw her bent over the mini fridge in dire search of cream for her coffee, he had to have her.

Her hand disappeared somewhere behind him as he nuzzled her neck. He saw his wallet laying open beside her and she was desperately looking for a square package with a Roman on it.

"Nicky," she whined and half moaned. Apparently, her hunt was unsuccessful and he laughed into her mouth when he took her lips fiercely with his.

As he took the time to grab the foil square, she noticed that her blouse was completely unbuttoned, exposing her white lace bra, and her pants were unzipped. Triumphantly, he tucked the package into her bra and smirked at her before he began to kiss a trail from her neck to the waistband of her black pants. He slid the cloth off of her legs and onto the floor, his hands skimming back up the smoothness of her calves and thighs. With an arm wrapping around her waist, he pressed her tightly against his body letting her feel his need for her. He set a slow pace of his hips to grind into hers and she nearly fell apart with the euphoria of it.

"Tease," Sara murmured before she licked the outside of his ear, tugged, and sucked on the lobe with her teeth.

His chuckle rumbled in his chest and she felt it when her hands gripped his flesh. The dark green t-shirt he had been wearing was lost somewhere behind them probably next to her pants and soon her silk blouse.

"Nick, please," she begged as his deft hands massaged her covered breasts. To make it clear that she was serious, she dropped his jeans and let them pool around his ankles. She admired the sight of him in an aroused state, only in a pair of white boxer briefs and a smirk on his thin lips.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he quipped softly, pulling on her earlobe with his teeth. She lost her panties and he lost the smirk on his face when she grasped him hard in one hand, slipping the condom on with the other.

"Sweet Jesus," he said on a pant. He stabilized himself on the table with both hands, his head resting on her exposed shoulder.

It was her turn to smirk at the weakness that she could induce in such a man. He saw the grin and assaulted her lips with his hunger. Grasping her by the underside of her thighs, he pulled her closer to him and drove into her harder than he meant to. She gasped and clung to his bare back with her nails, a moment later leaving red trails down his spine. His name fell from her lips in rapid succession with each callous thrust.

Sara smacked his head with her hand and repeated his name several times, each getting louder and louder. As adorable as the Texan looked asleep in his chair, she had to wake him up since the meeting was long over and shift had ended almost thirty minutes prior.

"Jesus, Nick, wake up!" she said frustrated, pinching his nose in a desperate attempt to block the air that was flooding into his lungs.

He woke up with a start, his brown eyes wide and his face a little red. He cursed at her and gently slapped her hand away from his face.

The look in his eyes was one of bewilderment when he realized that Sara was no longer underneath him moaning his name but standing before him, looking like she was ready to commit murder.

"Are you comatose when you sleep?"

"Not usually," he grumbled, rubbing the side of his head as he wondered where the pain had come from.

"Well you sure as hell sleep like you are."

There was a silent but brief pause between the two of them when Nick suddenly realized what had happened.

"I fell asleep during the meeting?" he questioned incredulously.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you kick me or something? Grissom is probably irate!"

"Nothing he won't get over. Besides, you look so cute when you are asleep with a little drool coming out of the side of your mouth." She accentuated her words with touching the corner of her red mouth with the tip of her finger.

"I did not drool, Sidle."

"Then wipe off what ever is on your chin," she said smiling widely and chuckling.

He violently wiped his chin with his sleeve and received a mock-disgusted look from his coworker. "Now that was attractive."

"There's no one here to impress," he joked, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. He noticed that she watched his shirt ride up a little bit. Flushed, she adverted her eyes onto something else behind him.

"I'll pretend that I didn't hear that and let you know that shift ended thirty-five minutes ago."

"Shit, I was supposed to get a ride home with Warrick," he muttered, staring down at his watch on his wrist. He glanced up at her a second later, a pleading look in his eyes. "Sar?"

"Fine," she mumbled, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Go get your stuff and meet me in the parking lot."

Nick was halfway out the door when the question in her voice stopped him. "What were you dreaming about anyway, Nicky?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her and observed her attempt to suppress the smile on her lips. "Why?"

"It sounded," she paused for effect, "interesting."

Nick saw the twinkle in her eye. She knew exactly what he had been dreaming about; only he doubted that she knew it was her who played the leading lady.


	2. So Scratch It

Chapter Two: So Scratch It

"So what is this that Sara tells me about you sleeping during the meeting?" wondered Warrick, rifling through his locker for a half decent shirt to wear. He stood there in a wife beater and a pair of baggy jeans, waiting for his coworker to explain himself.

"Exactly that," replied the Texan, buttoning up his shirt. "The last thing I remember Grissom saying was that we were all doing a great job lately. A surprising compliment from him if you ask me. Where were you?"

"Working a double solo. Some convenience store owner was shot twice in the back of the head. No money was stolen and the place looked clean."

"So?"

"His brother did it."

"Why?"

"The store was supposed to go to him if something ever happened to the owner," Warrick answered evenly.

Nick scoffed and tucked in the bottom of his shirt into his pants. "That's one of the dumbest things I have ever heard."

"That, and you drooling."

That got Nick's attention. He stared at his friend with a raised eyebrow, challenging him to continue what he was saying. Warrick only smiled at the door of his locker as he locked it.

"Were you going somewhere with that?"

"What were you dreaming about?"

"No of your damn business, that's what."

"Sara was saying that it sounded pretty interesting."

"If you just got off shift and she has been at her crime scene with Gris since shift began, when would you have seen her?"

"Maybe you should have been a detective Nick Stokes," joked Warrick, watching him grab his black vest out of the locker. He was already wearing his own.

"Yeah, but that staff isn't as attractive."

"Is that what you were dreaming about?"

"Catherine?" inquired Nick, purposely playing dumb. He leaned against his locker and folded his arms over his chest after slipping on the vest. "Nah, she's not my type, man."

"No. I was thinking more of a science nerd."

"We're all science geeks, War."

"But not all of us are control freaks or have chicken scratch writing as well as obsessions with statistics."

"Man, I'm not into Grissom."

"You know whom I'm talking about," said Warrick, narrowing his eyes at the Texan.

"And what if I was?"

"Are you though?"

"Would you like an answer right away?"

"I never realized that you were so good at avoiding questions," mocked Warrick, looking at him a little sardonically.

"Yes, I was dreaming about Sara. Are you happy now?"

"You going to ask her out?"

"It was a dream!" he defended.

"Are you going to ask her out though?"

"I could have dreamed about _you, _Warrick. Would you have suggested that I ask you out?"

"If you had dreamed about having sex with me, I would tell you off. And by the way, I'm not like that, Nick. I'm sorry."

Nick sneered at him jokingly and waited for his friend to say something else, probably just as insulting.

"No, I would not have said that you should ask me out. Besides, you've liked Sara for years."

"How did you know it was about sex, anyway? And you never answered my question about how you found out that I fell asleep."

"I talked to Catherine and from what she told me, Sara thought that the dream sounded pretty "interesting" and, uh, you looked pretty "interested" as well." Warrick laughed when he saw his all-too-proud coworker blush at the latter part of his statement.

"There's someone you should ask out: Catherine."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it."

"So why haven't you?"

"Well, I haven't seen her a lot lately because of all the doubles her and I have worked separately on."

"There's such a thing as a phone."

"You know how it is. Working for that long, any extra time you have is spent sleeping. Besides, she needs to see Lindsey as well."

"Yeah, that's true."

"So, you going to ask her out?"

"Warrick, man, leave it be," warned Nick, starting to make his way out of the locker room, his friend not too far behind him.

"Why?"

"I need to figure out things out."

"Come on, Nick. You've been dying to ask her out forever."

"I don't know if I want a relationship right now. Anyway, it doesn't matter. We're coworkers. It's probably just an itch that I have."

"So scratch it!" exclaimed Warrick as the two of them rounded the corner.

"Scratch what?" wondered Sara, brow tensed in confusion.

"I have a mosquito bite," mumbled Nick, his hand resting over his forearm, while he stared at something just over Sara's shoulder.

"Yeah," began Warrick, sending the man beside him a half disgusted, half disappointed side-glance. "He's been complaining about it since the beginning of shift."

"You must have got it last night when we were out in the desert," said Sara innocently.

"Yeah, must have."

"You guys missed Grissom handing out cases. Warrick you're with Catherine and Grissom on a triple homicide in a hotel room of the Tangiers." Sara turned to Nick and smiled widely. "You're with me, Cowboy."

It wasn't just Warrick that smirked at the little nickname, but Nick as well. She was the only one who could get away with calling him that and she definitely took advantage of that fact.

"See you two later," waved Warrick, already halfway down the hall towards Grissom's office.

"What do we have?"

The two started walking in the other direction towards the front door.

"We have a homicide in a residential area just outside of town."

"What happened?"

"A woman about the age of twenty-five was murdered in her bathroom," responded Sara as she took out the keys to her Tahoe.

"Is David there yet?"

"He just left."

"Alright."

"Hey, Nick?" started Sara as she slide into the front seat of the navy blue vehicle.

"Yeah, Sidle?"

"How was your sleep last night?"


	3. Scared of Eight Legs

**Chapter Three: Scared of Eight Legs**

"Nick, they would have to be having some pretty rough sex to crack that glass, let alone shatter it," said Sara matter-of-factly.

There was an eyebrow raised in her direction, questioning her knowledge. "State your source, Sidle," challenged a thick southern drawl.

"I don't have one," she replied, glancing over her bare shoulder at the smirking man behind her with his hands on his denim-clad hips.

"It's single-pained. There's a very good chance that two people could break that glass."

A small snort was heard and he took it as her reply. He stepped closer to her so that he was standing directly behind her, leaning over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, "Would you like to prove me wrong?"

"Maybe when we are not on company time, Stokes."

That was definitely not the answer he was anticipating. His ego was a little deflated, if not popped entirely, and he had a slightly disappointed expression on his face when he stepped around the woman in front of him and admired the glass.

"What does that look like to you?" he said, pointing a latex finger at something Sara could not see.

She stepped forward and bent over, squinting her eyes at the shattered glass. "Blood."

"It could be the killer's," offered Nick optimistically.

"Or the victim's."

"I would prefer the former, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. It would make things easier only we don't have anything to compare it to."

"We could compare it to that," suggested Nick.

"Someone had sticky fingers," murmured Sara, observing the smudged fingerprint covered with something her mother never told her to say in public.

"It could be a match."

"You're very optimistic tonight," stated Sara, taking a sample of the blood and of the white substance on a piece of remaining glass above it.

"It's good to be optimistic."

"Yes, sometimes. But you might kick yourself later for being wrong."

"Or you might because I was right," grinned Nick when she straightened up and looked at him. "I'm going to check out the bedroom. See if anything interesting pops up."

"And I'll what? Watch you rifle through the garbage and drawers?"

"You're a big boy, Nick. I think you can find something to do. This isn't your first crime scene after all or do you need supervision?"

"I'll manage," stated Nick, glancing over his shoulder at her leaving.

There was not much stopping him from appreciating how snug her jeans were that night or how pretty she looked with a bit of color swept across her eyelids and lips. He let out a fairly loud sigh as he walked towards the door where he had put down his field kit. He opened it up, grabbing a couple of swabs and brown envelopes before he began to thoroughly examine the bathroom.

"Um, Nick?" He heard the slight quiver in her voice and immediately made his way into the bedroom, looking around for the source of the voice. He found her near the corner, standing still as a board, regarding something with disgust yet fear.

"Sara what is it?"

"Move very slowly," she murmured, enunciating each word precisely.

He moved carefully towards her and was just about to look over her shoulder when something on the floor moved fast. She jumped back, letting out a loud squeak and fell into Nick behind her, taking them both to the floor. There he was flat on his back, the wind slightly knocked out of him, with Sara lying on top of him, burying her face in his chest while she repeated "ew" over and over again.

"Sara, what the hell?"

"Didn't you see it?"

"See what?"

"It was huge, Nick!"

"What was?"

"It was a giant tarantula! It just crawled under the bed."

"Why would there be a tarantula in a bedroom?" he asked, hardly believing what she was blabbering about.

"Nick, I'm serious!" she exclaimed, staring straight into his chestnut eyes. His hands were resting on the small of her back and one had begun to smooth out her shirt in an attempt to comfort her.

"If you wanted to be on top of me, you should have just asked," he teased and then laughed when he saw a soft flush creep from underneath her shirt to settle in her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she stumbled and pushed herself up, using his chest as an aid. He could have easily held her down with his hands on her hips while she was sitting comfortably in his lap, but he allowed her to stand up.

"Trust me, Sidle. I'm not complaining," he stated, pushing himself to his feet. "Now where did that thing go?"

"Under the bed."

"Oh man, Grissom is going to love this."

"Nick, will you get it?"

"Yeah, since you're obviously incapable," he smirked over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. It's just," she swallowed hard, "they creep me out. The hairy legs and the eyes."

She shivered as she watched pull out his flashlight and bend down beside the bed. He flipped up the skirt of the bed and peered under after flicking on the light. He saw the culprit near the foot of the bed and started to wonder how the hell he was going to get it out.

"And Sara, how do you purpose I capture it?"

"With your southern charm?" she replied meekly, offering a soft grin at the man on his hands and knees at her feet, staring up at her.

"Just because they're from the South, Sar, doesn't mean they listen to a Texan."

"Oh come on. I'm sure as a kid you handled them all the time."

"I did, actually. But there was a difference back then. Back then, I killed them."

"So?"

"I have only ever captured one."

"Has one ever bitten you?"

"Yeah but they're harmless, just kind of painful. What is it even doing here? I mean, they live in burrows and under sticks and rocks. Unless the vic had it as a pet."

"Unlikely."

"Why is that?"

"I don't ever remember seeing a terrarium anywhere."

"Do we have to catch it? Couldn't we just leave it here?"

"It's in an unnatural environment, Nick."

"But they don't harm humans. They're not like blowflies or anything."

"Yeah, since tarantulas don't look for moist areas on a corpse to lay their eggs."

"Find me a container or something."

"Where's your kit?"

"Near the bathroom door."

Before he even noticed that she had left him alone with the tarantula hiding expertly under the bed, she was back again with a plastic container and a lid. She handed it to him and he took it gratefully.

"You're going to want to move."

"Why?"

"I can't crawl under the bed, Sara. But you could."

"Oh no! I'll move."

"Okay."

"Where is it?"

"Near the foot of the bed."

Sara backed up behind Nick who was knelt beside the bed, beginning to crawl around towards the foot. He looked hilarious in the light of the moon that seeped in from the open windows, crawling on the carpet with a container in one hand. She watched as he made a quick movement and laughed victoriously before letting out a stream of curses and then a yelp.

"Nick?"

"It bit me! That hairy little bastard bit me! I don't believe it," he cried out.

"I thought you got it?"

"I did but then when I tried to slip the lid under it got up and crawled onto my arm."

"Where is it?"

"I don't know. Oh wait. Sar, don't move," he warned, on his knees, looking at her over the bed.

"Where is it?" she squeaked out.

"I think it's just around the corner."

If it was at all possible, she sank back further into the corner and searched with frantic eyes for the spider that was causing so much hassle.

"If that thing comes near me –"

"Ah ha!" he shouted triumphantly, holding the container upside down, firmly pressing it into the carpet as if the spider would knock it over or something. He slid the lid under and successfully put it on. "Oh shit."

"What is it, Nick?"

"I think I broke its leg. Damn. Grissom is not going to be pleased."

"Jesus, Nick," whined Sara.

"Hey. I didn't see you making an effort to catch it," he remarked, standing up and then disappearing into the bathroom to put the container beside his kit.

"What do you say we head back to the lab for a while?"

"As long as there's no tarantulas or anything," she murmured, walking away from the wall towards him.

Sara relaxed slightly when he wrapped his arm loosely around her back as he walked beside her, kit in hand. She picked up her own and the two of them made their way out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"Well, if I were you I would stay out of Grissom's office then. You never know if the insects in there are alive or dead."

**A/N: I would like to point out my complete and utter stupidity as I too am not extremely fond of creep crawlies (anyone remember those molds where you make bugs out of whatever it was? No?). I had to look up tarantulas and spiders in these old encyclopedias that I own (1975 baby). Sure, the picture of the tarantula was not real and the coloring was horrible but I got shivers that I could not suppress every time I read something like "the bird-eating tarantulas" or looked at the picture. By the way, they don't really eat birds. But some tarantulas do eat small animals such as frogs, toads, and mice, as well as other insects. Shudder. I feel like Grissom only he likes spiders. **

**Also, I would like to thank meg-bing, Fiian, tristansmom, love N/S, PamIrL, missiemeghan, A Christy, Hips, and forensicsfan. By the way, forensicsfan, I will gladly accept that chocolate bunny. Yum. **

**Oh look, Mother wants me to go under the house in the crawl space after I have just written about spiders and tarantulas. Sure, I may not live in the States, let alone the southern ones where tarantulas are commonalities, but it's the concept. And ew. What a concept. **


	4. Southern Arousal In the Layout Room

**Chapter Four: Southern Arousal In the Layout Room**

Sara had never really enjoyed the smell of the morgue though she had the stomach for it. It was cold and dark with bodies lying still on tables, some had been through autopsies and others had not. The morgue was definitely not an environment in which she wanted to work in but she had considered it years ago. Either way, she still saw the condition the victims were in and they told her as much as they told the coroner.

"So Doc, what do you have for me?" Her voice sounded more cheerful than she felt but the doctor hardly noticed anything otherwise.

"I think it's pretty evident that she died of exsanguination," stated the doctor, standing beside the table where the pallid deceased lied. "However, if you notice the petechial hemorrhages in her eyes, asphyxiation is more likely to be the cause of death."

"She has multiple contusions on either side of her trachea. Almost as if she was strangled."

"The vic was definitely strangled. There are fractures to the cornu of the thyroid cartilage. What people don't realize is that it takes very little force to strangle someone. Many assailants use more pressure than they need to."

"So strangulation is the COD?"

"Yeah definitely. I noticed that she has a lot of flesh wounds on her back; a few though are pretty deep. One pierced her liver fairly badly."

"Hence why you do not know if she died of exsanguination or asphyxiation?"

"Basically. But if she died of exsanguination, there would be no point to strangle her now would there be?"

"True," sighed Sara. "So asphyxiation first and then exsanguination. He strangled her after she fell through the glass."

"That would explain the many shards of glass I found embedded in her back," remarked the doctor, pointing lightly to the side table where Sara saw little pieces of bloody glass in a metal tray.

"Do you think you can send those to trace for me? See if they match the glass in the shower just for reassurance."

"Yeah, of course."

"Thanks, Doc."

He nodded and turned away from her as she left the morgue, glad to be rid of the heavy stench of death in the air. Sara immediately went to the layout room where she had the sheets of the victim's bed on the table. Nick was with Brass in the interrogation room, questioning the victim's boyfriend about his whereabouts.

"So this is what Sara Sidle does on her breaks," Nick jested, leaning against the doorframe of the layout room, watching her finish up processing the white sheet on the table. "Get anything?"

"It's clean. There's nothing on here. Not even peanut butter." After she said the last part she glanced up at Nick and saw him making a gagging gesture with his finger down his throat.

"That's very becoming, Nicky."

"Why thank you. You know what's even more becoming?" he inquired, strolling leisurely towards her with a look in his eye that she could not completely place.

"What?"

"Your ass in those jeans."

The smirk on his face widened at the embarrassment that flooded hers. She blushed and kept her eyes on the ALS equipment that she had begun to put away. She removed the orange glasses from her face and tucked the machine underneath the table for her to store away later.

"I'm serious, Sidle. You make a grown man weak in the knees with that wiggle of your hips when you walk." He was close behind her, almost breathing in her ear and she shuddered as his breath caressed the flesh of her neck, down her shirt.

She licked her lips and was at a complete loss for words.

"Cat caught your tongue, darlin'?"

"What did I say about company time, Nick?"

"That was sex. This is just mere flirtation, conversation if you will."

"None of that either."

"You do it just as much as I do."

"I do not! I don't tell you that you look damn hot in that vest of yours or how that drawl is melt-inducing."

"And what a damn shame it is that you don't."

"There's a time and a place for things, Nick, and the layout room is not one of them." She turned around and faced him. His face was close to hers and his body was near enough for her to effortlessly reach out and touch it.

"Yes, there is. And right now is the time _and_ the place to tell you that your ass looks damn fine in denim."

"You really know how to compliment a woman, don't you?"

"It _is_ a compliment, Sara, not an insult. And I know how to treat women just fine."

"Yes, I forgot about your reputation for being smooth."

"You know you want me, Sidle," he said arrogantly, taking a step in advance towards her.

"Am I that transparent?"

"I think you give yourself away when you stare at me in the locker room."

"I don't stare. I admire," she corrected shamelessly.

"Well, the two look a lot alike. You could admire many other ways that are just fine with me."

"Let me guess. They involve "admiring" you on the break room table?" she said, her voice flat and hard as rock.

He stopped cold and stared incredulously at the woman before him. "What did you just say?"

"I was insinuating the two of us having sex on the break room table."

His dream instantly flashed through his mind and he could not meet her questioning eyes. The feeling of her warm body writhing in pleasure and ecstasy beneath him consumed his mind, his senses. Before he could stop it, he was hard as a rock and in dire need to screw her silly.

"Nick, are you alright?" Sara's voice sounded genuinely concerned and she gazed into his lust-filled eyes innocently.

"I'm fine." His drawl was thicker and huskier than he had intended it to be but she hardly noticed or didn't mind.

"So I guess the break room table is out of the question?"

"Oh, it's perfectly fine with me but I didn't know that you're considering having sex with me on it."

"Don't get your hopes up, Cowboy, and I can't help but notice that you've managed to get something else up." She raised an eyebrow at the last word and gave him a long glance down, then back to his face.

Her bravado was undoubtedly bolder than he had ever seen it at that moment and there was not a part of him that minded. At least now he had a clearer idea of what she thought of him but maybe everything was just a game to her. He didn't mind that either.

The hunger in her eyes caught his attention all right but what enthralled him entirely was her hand firmly grasping his package through the denim of his jeans. He swallowed hard while his eyes went wide with shock. There was little pain compared to the gratification of having her hand on him.

"Didn't your momma teach you ta keep your hands to yourself?" he questioned, his accent unconsciously strong but also higher in pitch.

"I didn't think you would mind, Nicky," she purred.

Was he dreaming again? he wondered to himself. No, he was not dreaming, he concluded when she removed her hand from his groin. Sara didn't look discouraged or angry with him when she turned her back to him once more.

"Now if you'll excuse me Mr. Stokes, I've got to finish up here."

"And I've got to go take a freezing cold shower now because of you," he muttered, taking long strides towards the door even though it was more painful that way.

"Mind if join you?"

He whirled around on his heel, his jaw to the floor. But his look of astonishment and disbelief promptly turned into a scowl when her straight face cracked into a smile and fits of laughter followed. He would get even with her soon enough, he decided as he made his way to the locker room, and when he did, she wouldn't be laughing. She would be screaming.

**A/N: Not my favorite chapter I would have to say. Maybe it's because I already wrote one today and writing two is overload. Maybe. **


	5. Stokes Clad In Chocolate

**Disclaimer: Don't own them, would buy them, want the creating rights but cannot have them, would screw George at any possible chance. Happy?**

**Author's Notes: I dedicate this chapter to forensicsfan because your comment "for a chocolate covered George" inspired this chapter. Enjoy being hot and bothered, love. And Happy Easter, y'all!**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Stokes Clad In Chocolate**

There was more pink, green, yellow, and purple in the entire lab than Nick had ever seen in his entire life. He watched in horror as Greg Sanders paraded around the lab with a wicker pink basket in hand, chocolates inside. He wore a colorful polka dot tie and a very vibrant purple blazer and to top it all off, he wore white furry rabbit ears and a rabbit nose. Nick didn't know whether to laugh or to scratch his eyes out at the sight. It seemed that he was not the only one with the same decision in mind. Grissom was standing outside of his office, staring at the lab tech with his mouth open and his glasses in hand. He did not appreciate the cut-out eggs that Greg had taped around the lab or the proposal for an 'egg hunt.'

"Greg, shouldn't you be processing those fingerprints I gave you?" inquired Grissom, finally gaining his usual composure.

"It's already been done, Boss. Here, have an egg," he said cheerfully, handing over a green and silver wrapped chocolate egg.

"Get away from me," warned Nick, both hands up in defense as he took a step back. "I hate chocolate, man."

"Come on, Nick. It's Easter."

"So? It's commercialized anyway."

"Oh, lighten up," started Sara, patting him gently on the back and taking a couple of the small eggs out of Greg's basket. She received a scowl from the older man and an appreciated grin from the younger.

"Yeah, Nicky. Lighten up," Greg taunted.

"Greggo, I suggest you get back to work," offered Grissom walking by as he unwrapped his egg. "I need those results on my desk. Now. And Nick, Sara, if you see Catherine tell her I need to see her."

"Yeah, sure, Gris."

Nick and Sara walked off in the other direction from Grissom, chatting about the decorations and the attire of Greg. The conversation carried on until they made it to Sara's Tahoe since Nick's was in repair.

The air was humid and hot enough to put Mississippi summers to shame. Sara had taken advantage of the heat and adorned a white tank top with her faded jeans.

"Can I drive?" Nick wondered, a slight pout on his lips and pleading in his eyes.

"It's my truck."

"I miss driving mine. I won't be able to for another week, Sar. Come on, we're only going out for lunch."

"So let me get this straight. You want to drive _my_ truck and go to the In and Out?"

"Yes."

"And what do I get out of you totaling my Tahoe and greasy hamburgers?"

"A fine afternoon with yours truly," he replied sweetly, giving her a wide smile. "Besides, you owe me from that thing earlier in the layout room."

"What thing?" she asked, brow furrowed as she leaned against the grill of her navy blue Tahoe.

"Your wandering hand."

She scoffed and threw the keys at him, rounding the front to the passenger's side. "You know you enjoyed it, Nick."

"What if I did?"

"I know you did."

"Okay, so I did. Where does that leave us?" He started the engine after buckling in. He checked the rear view mirror, both side mirrors, and then over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking stall.

"I don't know. In a Tahoe with hungry stomachs?"

He glanced at her as he did a two-point turn before he sped out of the parking lot and had her reaching frantically for her seatbelt.

"Jesus, Nick. How do they teach you to drive in Texas?"

"Like you're dying," he grinned, signaling his lane change.

"Apparently," she breathed out, staring at the cars they passed.

"So where did you get the break room table from?"

"Huh?"

"Sex. Break room Table."

"Oh. Um, nowhere? I figure that it's cleaner than the layout table considering all of the stuff we put on there. Have you ever washed it once you were finished?"

"Once but that's only because I spilt orange juice."

"Contaminating evidence, Nicky?" chided Sara, smirking at him with a teasing hint in her tone.

"No. I guess if we did have sex on the layout table we could potentially contaminate evidence," he mused, pulling into the parking lot of the In and Out, his favorite place to eat in the entire world.

"Potentially, yes."

"Inside or in the Tahoe?"

"You are not eating that burger in here."

"Inside it is."

They found a table in the corner after receiving two orders of fries, a double double Animal Style, and onion rings accompanied with two beverages. She sat across from him, not having the stomach to sit beside him while he ate his burger dripping with grease and fat, not to mention all of the preservatives and other unmentionables.

"That is the sickest thing I have ever seen," she mumbled disgustedly, watching him over her water as he took the largest bite she had ever witnessed of his big, dripping with sauce and who knows what else, burger.

He chewed with a smile on his face and then topped it with a sip of his cola. "Your onion rings look pretty sick too Sar."

"It's not my fault they don't serve salads here."

"That's because a man doesn't want a salad with Italian dressing and a bread stick on the side. He wants a fattening, artery-clogging burger that is almost better than sex to eat for lunch."

"And what would you prefer to have, Nick Stokes: that "artery-clogging burger" or sex?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"Who I am having sex with," he replied honestly through a mouthful of meat and cheese. She winced at the sight of it and looked down at her onion rings, tempted to push them away if they had not been the only thing she ate all day.

"Catherine."

"Burger."

"Wow. Don't hesitate to think there, Nicky."

He shrugged as he took another bite, hands practically covered in sauce and whatnot.

"You're telling me that you wouldn't have sex with a woman as gorgeous as her, as experienced as her?"

"I would have sex with her, yes, but if I had to choose between a burger and sex with Catherine, I'd go for the burger. Warrick would have my head anyways if I did screw her."

"Me."

"What?"

"The burger or me."

He put down the half eaten burger, the first time she had ever seen him let go of a double double Animal style burger unless he dropped a piece by accident, and licked his fingers before wiping them clean with a napkin. Or five.

"You want me to chose between the burger or you?"

"That's what I said. Answer truthfully too."

"Give me a taste."

"Excuse me?"

"Give me a taste of what I might consider giving my burger up for."

"Nick, that's ridiculous. Sex is sex."

"Uh huh. There's bad sex and then there's mind-blowing sex, Sara. You're not a virgin. You know what I am talking about."

"We're in public," she hissed, leaning over the table and gripping the edge, turning her knuckles white.

"The Tahoe is in the parking lot. We can come back in."

"No. Not happening," she said finally, folding her arms over her chest.

"Why not?"

"You can decide without a "taste" as you put it."

"Not accurately I can't."

"Nice try."

"Just a kiss."

"Nick –"

He got out from his side of the booth and she stared at him incredulously, shaking her head. She scooted farther over in the seat and Nick slid in beside her, watching her like a predator. Her heart was hammering against her chest and she licked her lips in anticipation as well as nervousness. She saw his eyes darken at the innocent gesture as he leaned in closer to her.

"Just a kiss," he whispered softly, his right hand slipping into her hair. His warm chestnut eyes gazed into hers and she practically melted at the lust of it.

The distance between their lips was almost nonexistent before Nick heard two familiar voices and pulled away from her in one fluid motion. Entering the restaurant was Catherine and Warrick, smiling at each other and laughing. They noticed Sara and Nick, and decided to join them at their booth after ordering their meals.

"Hey, guess what we brought with us?" smiled Catherine, a brown bag with a large 'DQ' on it. "Hot fudge Sundaes. My treat."

Nick smiled and thanked her while Sara desperately attempted to recover herself and appear composed, calm.

"Are you alright, Sara?" queried Warrick, concern lacing his tone.

"Yeah. I just get disgusted watching Nick eat his burger," she answered, feigning a smile.

The three of them chuckled at her comment and Nick snatched up his burger once more. They ate there meals quickly, anticipating their sundaes that were slowly melting. Just as Catherine took out their sundaes, her pager went off and she as well as Warrick had to leave for their case, taking their own sundaes with them.

"We should be getting back soon too," stated Nick. "Do you trust me to eat this in the Tahoe?"

"I guess but if you spill, you get to pay for it."

"Fine."

They took their desserts into the Tahoe, Nick still in the driver's seat and Sara beside him practically devouring her ice cream. Where she was clean and tidy, Nick was a mess with the chocolate fudge. It was all over his face and on his chin. He reminded her of a one-year-old trying to feed itself.

"Nick, you eat like you're three."

"Hmm?"

"Look at your face," she said, pointing to the rear view mirror. He did and laughed at himself. "It's all over your face!"

He dipped his finger into hers for all she had left was the sauce and she didn't even see it coming. He smeared the sticky chocolate across her lips, chin, and part of her cheek. She squealed in shock and tried to get away from his chocolate-covered fingers. Without her knowing it Nick had taken her sundae, put his own chocolate-less one on the dashboard, and had her beneath him with her hot fudge in hand.

"Nick, don't you dare!" she exclaimed as he threatened to pour some on her. "I will kill you and make it look like an accident!"

"I'm sure you would, Sidle," he chuckled.

He smeared some across her neck and onto her white tank top, eliciting a horrified gasp from her. He smirked down at her victoriously and he knew he was going to pay for it. With strength he never knew she had, Sara wrestled him down beneath her and straddled his waist. She was now in possession of the hot fudge and was willing to use it. Today, Nick had opted in wearing a button-up shirt, unbuttoning it dangerously low in lieu of Warrick. With fudge on the tip of her finger, she made a trail from his lips, down his neck, and underneath his shirt. He never expected to feel the flat of her tongue lapping clean the chocolate path she had just made and when it got to his mouth, she smirked, and with a deft tongue and lips, cleaned ever inch of his mouth.

Dipping two fingers into the fudge, she brought them to his lips and he sucked them spotless without a second thought. She smiled down at him before taking him hungrily with her mouth. A long moment later, they broke apart, their breaths hitched a little with the deprivation of oxygen.

"Five minutes ago you refused to kiss me and now you're damn-well devouring me, woman. I don't understand you."

"This is under different terms."

"Not much –"

Her tongue licking over his pulse quieted him and he moaned when she ran her tongue over his Adam's apple before biting into his heated flesh. The persuasion of his hands on her hips, holding her firmly to his body, made her want to rock against him and she did in a slow, agonizing grind. He gave a manly groan with a hint of Texas.

"Mmm," she moaned, undoing a few more of the buttons on his shirt. "A chocolate covered Nick Stokes. What more could a woman ask for on Easter?"

The lazy grin across his moist lips drove her to take another gentle bite of his bottom lip and she succumbed to his dominance when he carefully rolled himself on top of her. He could have easily gotten used to the way he fit perfectly in between her spread legs and the way she looked at him like she could eat him whole.

"Damn Sara, I want you so badly," he groaned into her ear as his hand ventured from her hip, over her clothed stomach and to her breast. Her reply was an arch of her hips into his and a muffled moan. Teeth tugged at the lobe of her ear after a tongue traced the outside shell.

"Nicky," she whispered as his hand retraced its steps to underneath her chocolate stained tank top and up to her lace-clad breast. He pinched gently at her nipple as his teeth nibbled her collarbone and all he could think of was how good it would feel to have her breast in his mouth, not only his hand.

She made him sit upright against the back of the seat so she could sit astride his lap and kiss him senseless. The fudge was gone and forsaken somewhere with the other on the dashboard. Her bruised lips were demanding as his fingers got lost in her mahogany hair and she no longer fought the urge to grind down on his erection that was pressing into her. His hands that were once tangled in her tresses were now encouraging her rhythm, one on her hip while the other squeezed her behind.

Something vibrated against the inside of her thigh and she yelped in surprise, wondering how Nick's anatomy was capable of such a thing. He reached down in between them and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, urgently attempting to regain a steady breathing pattern.

"Stokes?"

"Nick, it's Brass. The boyfriend confessed."

"Alright. We'll be down there in ten."

He hung up and looked at her apologetically. "Duty calls, darlin'."

"It always does."

She hopped out of the car with the garbage in her hands and emptied them into the near by bin before she jumped back in. She was thankful for that back that she kept an extra set of clothes in the back and while Nick pulled out of the parking lot, she put on a blouse over top of the stained tank top.

"So Nick, what's your decision?"

"What?"

"The burger or me?"


	6. Some Like It Doubled

**Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I had created them, do not make any money off them, but they do provide me with amusement and I will gladly employ George Eads any day. **

**Rating: Take a wild guess. I dare you. **

**Author's Notes: Judging by the chapter title, what to y'all think he chose? **

**Oh and forensicsfan, it's a shame that you Americans will only send a dollar bill with chocolate syrup. By the way, I was just in the states and how did I feel like I had a lot of money with all of those bills! We've got coins and pretty money. : D**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Some Like It Doubled**

"What happened to you?" questioned Warrick with a tense brow, nodding to the condition his coworker's shirt was in. "Did you get attacked by Greg or something?"

"No, Sara took it upon herself to drive over ever speed bump and pothole in the parking lot while I was eating my sundae," he lied through his teeth.

"Ouch."

"Yeah. I ended up wearing more of it than eating it."

Now that part was not much of a lie, he told himself as he searched through his tidy locker for an extra shirt to change into. He found one and tugged the one he wore over his head.

"Wow, you really made a mess," Warrick said, pointing to the remnants of smeared chocolate on his chest.

"Yeah, that's what I get for wearing a shirt like you do," Nick smirked, pulling a fitting dark green t-shirt over his head.

"Few people can pull it off, Nicky, and I don't think you're one of them."

He shrugged lightly and locked his locker just as Sara came in.

"So, I heard what you did to Nick," began Warrick, sitting down on the benches with a smile on his thick lips.

Her eyes immediately flashed to Nick, wide and in shock. She could not believe that Nick had told Warrick about what had happened in the front seat of her Tahoe.

"You know, you really shouldn't be so mean to our boy here, driving over all of those potholes and speed bumps."

As Warrick spoke, she stared at Nick and then understood that he had told his friend a different story. She let out a breath, relieved for the fact that Nick had not told him that the two of them got kinky in the front seat of her Tahoe with hot fudge.

"Yeah well, it's hard to resist when he takes forever to eat the damn thing."

"Just because I prefer to savor it unlike your wolfing it down in four spoonfuls, doesn't mean you get to decide that I should ruin a shirt and smell like chocolate."

"At least you'll smell nice," she offered with a shrug of her shoulder, not really caring much.

Warrick chuckled as he stood and gave Nick a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I suggest you take a shower, bro. You won't be picking up the ladies smelling like a little kid."

"Thanks, man."

Without another word, he left the two of them alone in the locker room, staring at each other. She shook her head with a smile on her lips as she leisurely strolled towards him, his back to the bay of lockers.

"Lying now?"

"Would you have preferred me to tell him that we made chocolate a part of our foreplay and repertoire?"

"No, but what a clever little fib that was, Nicky," she complimented, toe-to-toe with him now. He smirked at her and watched how she bit her bottom lip for a brief moment.

"So I take it as you talked to Brass?"

"Everything is finished. The boyfriend confessed to killing her."

"Why?"

"She was cheating on him with his best friend."

"Oh," he winced, "that's low."

"You think so? So if I were to go have sex with Warrick, what would you do?"

"I would go order me a double double, darlin'."

"You never did answer me," she stated, resting a hand on either side of his head on the cold metal lockers.

"No, I didn't."

"Are you ever going to or am I just going to assume that you would prefer sinking your teeth into a greasy hamburger than into me?"

"Well, when you put it like that," he smiled before promptly changing positions on her. He had her pressed up against the lockers with his body, and his hands on either side of her face. A gasp filled the air when he dipped his head low and gently bit the side of her throat, faintly tasting chocolate on her flesh. His tongue flicked out and sampled her skin before he nipped and kissed her neck.

"Is that a good enough reply?" he murmured into her hair, tugging on the lobe of her ear with his teeth.

"No, I think you need to elaborate more. A lot more."

"Shift's over."

"So?"

"We're not on company time any more, babe."

"I'm not having sex with you on the break room table. Final answer, Nicolas."

"What about the layout room?"

"Ew, no."

"Right here?"

"Anyone could walk in and –"

"There's a lock on the door."

"That has a key to open it. Not here, Nick. Anywhere else but here."

He grinned as an idea flashed through his lust-clouded mind. He let go of his hold on her, giving her behind one last squeeze as he said, "Grab your stuff and meet me in the parking lot at your Tahoe."

"Nick," she started but he was already out the door, leaving her a little flustered and with desire still churning in her belly.

There was no telling what Nick had on the brain but she was dying to find out. She bragged her bag out of her locker, checked her underwear and thanked above that she was not wearing the white cotton Granny panties she was going to wear that day. What a turn-on she would be with those on. After she closed her locker, Sara took long strides out of the locker room and down the hall where she nearly ran down Catherine around the corner.

"Whoa, girl. Where are you in a hurry to get to?"

"Oh hey, Cath. I haven't seen you all morning," smiled Sara, avoiding the question entirely.

"I see someone has indulged in some of Greg's chocolate," Catherine said with a grin on her painted lips, brushing a finger over a fudge stain on Sara's collar.

"Well what can I say? I have a weakness for chocolate. I'll see you later, Cath."

"Happy Easter, Sar."

She threw a smile over her shoulder and the same words back. What she did not see was the wheels turning in her coworker's head, playing over what had just happened and the fact that Nick had run off to the parking lot in a bit of a rush as well.

"Do you always stand alone in the middle of the hallway with a smirk on your face?" wondered a deep, melting voice watching her from the side. She turned her head and rolled her eyes at the handsome man, shrugging at his question.

"I was just thinking."

"About what, if I may ask?"

"That Sara and Nick both left in a rush to get out of here."

"So?"

"We left them with those sundaes, War."

"I'm not seeing what you're seeing, Cath."

"They both came back to the lab with chocolate stains."

"Yeah, Sara drove over speed bumps and Nick spilt fudge on himself."

"How did Sara get fudge on herself then? And don't tell me chocolate spatter because you know damn well that that is impossible because of the velocity that the fudge fell at."

"I know. It would have dripped since it was a spill."

"Exactly."

"Maybe Sara is just a sloppy eater."

"Have you ever seen her eat before?"

"Yes."

"Then you would know that that is not plausible."

"I think you're making something out of nothing."

"Maybe, but what if I'm not?"

"How much, Cath?"

"How much what?"

"How much do you want to bet that there's nothing going on between them?"

"Warrick Brown, I will bet you a full body massage that there is something going on between Nick and Sara."

There was a low chuckle made from his general direction before he met her crystal blue eyes. "Deal."

"What do you get if you win?"

"When I win I get a full body massage from you, darling," he purred into her ear just as he past her.

"Don't count on winning!" she shouted after him. "That massage is mine!"

They didn't even make it to his front door before Nick advanced on her, kissing her senseless while they stood pressed impossibly close on the sidewalk outside of his place. His hand was lost in her hair, cradling her head and his lips were fused to hers. He never wanted to stop kissing her but the fact that he would get slapped with a fine for indecent exposure and having sex in a public area stopped him from taking her up against the street pole. Reluctantly, he pulled away from and tried to catch his breath. She groaned with the loss of contact and when she tried to capture his lips with hers, he shook his head.

"Sara if I don't get you inside, I'm going to get arrested."

"There's no one watching."

"That we can see. And since when have you been an exhibitionist?"

"I've been one for about three seconds now," she replied behind him as he practically dragged her up the steps.

Just as fast as Nick unlocked the door and let her through, he had her hitched up around his waist and pressed against the closed door. His kiss was ravenous and ardent while his hands skimmed up from the undersides of her thighs to her behind, giving a hard squeeze. Her fingers however were occupied with finding the hem of his t-shirt while her eyes were closed and pulling it over his head. A curse was heard underneath her breath as she gazed at his toned chest and abs, relishing in the way his smooth skin felt beneath her fingertips.

Pressing her firmer against his body, she felt something pushing against the inside of her thigh and she smiled in the kiss as he brought her away from the door, beginning to walk down the hall. He brought them into his bathroom and when he set her down on her feet, her knees gave way. It took little effort for him to catch her with one arm and he grinned arrogantly down at her.

"Do I make you weak in the knees, darlin'?"

"Arrogant bastard," she cursed lightly, playfully glaring at him. "So tell me, why are we in your bathroom?"

He began to unbutton her striped pink, white, and green blouse as he answered her question, "Because I do recall that you said you would prove me wrong about something."

"What are you talking about?" She lifted her arms over her head for him to pull off her tank top.

"You said that it would take some pretty rough sex to crack single-pained glass. It just so happens that I have single-pained glass on my shower door."

"And you're proposing that we break it?"

"Maybe."

"Nick, I don't want to die of exsanguination like the vic."

"Actually, I would have to strangle you first for you to be the victim, now wouldn't I?"

"Yes," she mumbled, allowing him to unzip her jeans.

With inquisitive eyes he watched as he slowly pulled down her jeans, reveling in her pale flesh that was her toned legs. She stepped out of her pants and bit her lip as Nick ran his hands back up her calves and thighs. He smiled when she immediately complied with his hand urging her to raise her left leg to wrap around his waist. As he kissed her with fervor and desire, he grinded hard into her centre. She broke the kiss by letting out a moan and raking her fingernails down his exposed muscular back. There would definitely be two sets of five red lines trailing down his back by morning and she basked in the thought of marking him. He was hers and no one else's. Just the way she wanted it to be.

One hand came in between them to undo his oversized belt buckle and pull out his belt from the denim loops, dropping it to the floor with a soundly thud. Nick anticipated her removing his pants, dying to be relieved of the restricting garment that was preventing skin against skin. He wanted her badly and even more as she took her sweet time undoing his pants, gazing into his eyes with a sense of taunting in their depths.

"Just get it done with," he said low in his throat causing her to create a small laugh, which became muffled by his crushing mouth.

Finally she was done teasing him with his zipper but just as he was about to kick off his pants, she gripped him and gently massaged over top of the denim. His breath was heavy in her ear and it sent a large shiver down her spine when it caressed her bare neck and shoulder. Her teeth caught his bottom lip, nibbling carefully on the tender skin, while she gripped him harder in her hand.

"I can't take it any more," he moaned.

"Yes you can."

"Tease."

"And you love it."

He chuckled deeply as he ran his hands slowly up her back, making their way to the clasp of her white lace bra. He missed the touch of her hand when she had to let go of him so he successfully throw aside her bra and she did not continue either. He watched her take a step back and then slip off her underwear before turning on her heel to walk to the shower. All that bare skin just for him was all he could think about and that wiggle in her hips when she walked. Through a clouded mind Nick heard the sound of water crushing down on the tile of the shower floor and the distinct click of the door closing behind her.

For a moment he stood there watching her through the steam covered glass with a look of shock and pure need in his eyes. There was no signal from his brain for him to move. He only remained rooted to the ground with his pants halfway down his thighs and the hardest erection he had ever had.

Soap slid down her milky white legs and pooled around her feet, the toenails painted a light pink hue. There was no modesty in her demeanor when she raised her arms above her head causing her breasts to lift, and rinsed out the conditioner in her shoulder length chestnut hair. Her clean, strawberry scented flesh was a soft pink from the warmth of the water and her eyes closed as she let out a sigh after breathing in the aroma. She was waiting for him to join her and there he was watching her like a fool when he could have been the one lathering the soap to spread across her body.

He shed the remainder of his attire and opened with the door with a steady hand. A wave of steam hit his body along with the sight of a very naked Sara Sidle covered in soap. She wore a killer smile and nothing else as she stood there with her hands over her breasts in midst of washing them. Nick closed the door behind him and was now face to face with her, trying not to stare.

"Continue," he encouraged and to his pleasure she did. He swallowed hard as she grabbed the bottle of liquid soap to pour some in the centre of her hand.

First she spread the cool soap over his chest and then down his toned arms, allowing her eyes to wander over the contours of his body. She cleaned his back and noticed that he winced when the soap met the fresh lines of broken skin across his back. She kissed him softly on the mouth as to ease the pain and carried on with washing his behind before making her way around to his stomach. As her tongue slipped into his mouth, her hand glided lower and gave one hard stroke up his length. Sara felt him practically melt into her mouth and hand when she circled her thumb around his tip.

"You would not happen to keep condoms in your shower, would you?" she mumbled against his lips, stroking again with a firm hand.

"Actually, I would."

She raised a shock eyebrow and he answered it promptly.

"Ever since I had this idea, I decided that it would be wise to be a little prepared."

"And what if I had said no?"

"I don't even remember you saying yes, love."

She smiled and swung him around so that he was underneath the showerhead now. Shampoo in his hair had come and gone along with a little bit of conditioner.

With a step backwards, she felt the cool sensation of glass against her heated back and behind. Nick observed her carefully, waiting for her to say something since she had that look in her eye.

"All right, Nick. Prove me a liar," she purred.

And he did. Twice.

**Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I didn't "finish" them off but be satisfied with the knowledge that there is more fun stuff to come…**


	7. She Knows What She Wants

**Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, I do not own them, I did not create them, and I sure as hell do not profit them since I live in Surrey. Just kidding. Well, about the Surrey comment I am. **

**Rating: I think this chapter is going to be a healthy PG-13 just to play it safe. I find it amazing that I may actually be able to write something without sex or implied sex in it. Maybe I'll not even have anyone flirt. It will strictly be 'G.' No that would be no fun. Forget I mentioned it.**

**Author's Notes: I forgot to dedicate Chapter Six to Fiian. I'm sorry, darling. You know I love you! (Bah, exclamation marks.) And thank you to everyone for reviewing. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

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**

**Chapter Seven: She Knows What She Wants **

"Hey Nick, come 'ere a sec," hollered Warrick from the bathroom, through the solid door.

As Nick leisurely strolled towards the end of the hall, he said loud enough for Rick to hear, "There's more toilet paper underneath the sink man." He reached the door and listened for a reply.

"No, come in."

"If you're on the jon –"

"Nick," cut off Warrick sounding slightly annoyed and irritated.

"Alright."

When he stepped into the spacious room, Nick saw his friend with a smug smirk on his face, gesturing to the shower. His eyes followed the direction in which Warrick's finger was pointing in and frowned, not comprehending what Warrick was trying to acknowledge.

"Did you do this yourself?"

_Oh_, Nick thought to himself positive that there was a light bulb shining above his head. _The glass_.

"I had help," he responded casually, stuffing his deft hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans.

"In implementing the crime scene?"

"Umm," there was a soft thoughtful frown across his brow. "More like inspired by the crime scene."

Warrick eyed the cracked door closely, stepping forward to get a better look. He squinted as he stared until his brow softened and he glanced in Nick's general direction. With a finger pointing at something Nick could not see, he questioned professionally, "If I were to lift that print and bring it back to the lab, who's print would Greg tell me it belongs to?"

"Mine."

"Nah, couldn't be. Your thumb's a little bigger than that."

"So what are you trying to say, Rick?"

"Sara had last night off if I recall correctly."

"Coincidence man. Don't look too hard into it," remarked Nick flatly, turning his back on his friend.

"Whatever you say."

Warrick knew when Nick was hiding something by the forced casualness in his tone and how he brushed him off lightly. There was a knowing smirk across his thick lips that he could not suppress. He knew that Sara had been there last night and his gut feeling told him so. His kit was in the foyer and if only he could somehow get to it and back without noticing, he would be able to confirm his suspicions.

"Don't do it man," warned Nick, standing in the doorway, his hands still in his pockets only his face was a little more stern and serious.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know your kit's near the door and I know what you plan on doing."

"Is that so?" he replied amusedly.

"Yeah. I'd do the same thing if I were you."

"Just tell me who she was and I won't lift it."

"I don't kiss and tell," Nick answered with a cocky smirk. "Besides, Rick, we got to get going anyway. We got to be at work in twenty minutes."

"And it only takes one to lift a print."

A slight chuckle came from Nick as he shook his head, amused by his friend's persistent nature. Meeting his clear blue eyes, he smiled at him for a moment and then said, "I'll tell you later."

"You promise?"

"As long as you don't lift that print."

"Alright but I'm going to hold you to that, Nick Stokes."

"Yeah, I know. Come on. Let's get going."

The fact was, was that Nick knew he was going to have to tell Warrick sooner or later. He wasn't stupid and Nick knew that he himself would not be able to contain such juicy information without spilling it to someone, especially his best friend.

It was lucky for him that Sara had left around noon after laying with him in his bed for a few hours, the two of them making light conversation and enjoying each other's company. They had not talked about the shower or what had happened in it and he knew as well that they would eventually have to say something. He did not want to just have it be one quick screw between them. He wanted several, if not hundreds and he could not help but feel that he got the same impression from Sara.

Nick made sure that Warrick got nowhere near the bathroom or out of his sight for that matter. He trusted him on his word but one could never be too careful. Nick only had his back to him for a moment as he put on his denim jacket and Warrick had managed to find something that he shouldn't have on the floor.

"White lace, huh?" said Warrick, Sara's bra hanging from his finger.

"Yeah."

"Think she left it here as a reminder?"

Nick shrugged nonchalantly and made a move to grab it from him but Warrick was too quick and damn him too for he was also too observant. It must have been the CSI in him.

"And what is this stain on here? It kind of looks like chocolate." Something clicked. He swore loudly in his head and realized that Catherine was probably right. It looked like he would giving her a full body massage soon, not that he minded.

"What she does with her bra is none of my business," stated Nick, finally successfully grabbing the skimpy lace garment out of Warrick's grasp.

"You're hiding something Nicky," he taunted, knowing damn well what it was.

"Yeah, we've discussed this. I said I would tell you later."

"Why not tell me now? If I don't know her, saying her name would not require us wasting time compared to, say if it was Sara, which then I would ask you dozens of questions. Like why didn't you tell me sooner? And –"

"Warrick, lets go."

"And how did you persuade her to sleep with you so soon?" he continued on trailing behind him as they descended the stairs.

"This is definitely not going to convince me to tell you her name any sooner, man. If Sara heard you talking about her like that, she would rip you a new one."

"And why you guys were morbid enough to use the shower when you just did a case exactly like that?"

The questions continued as Nick rode in the passenger seat of the Tahoe, resting his head against the window as Warrick drove, his jaw flapping a mile a minute. Nick suddenly wished that he had taken Sara up on the offer of her driving him to work. Warrick would never have found the shower, the bra, and he never would have given Nick such a headache.

"You're driving me nuts, man!" Nick cried out at last, having said nothing the entire way there. Warrick smirked wickedly at him and all he could do was shake his head in anger and disbelief.

"So then tell me her name."

"No! Why do you care so much anyway?"

"Because I got a full body massage riding on this."

"Excuse me?" frowned Nick, slamming the door shut after him as the two of them began to walk towards the front doors of the lab.

"Catherine and I have a bet that there is something going on between you and Sara. If she's right she gets a full body massage from me and if I'm right I'm getting a full body massage from her."

"Well count on that massage, bro," responded Nick as they strolled down the hall to the locker room.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah man. Tell me how that goes," he said with smirk.

"How what goes?" wondered Catherine, closing her locker firmly.

"The massage you owe me," grinned Warrick standing dangerously close to her.

"What? Nick tell me it's not true!"

"Oh, I'm hurt Catherine. Here I thought you wouldn't mind," he said, feigning that he was hurt by her lack of enthusiasm.

"Sorry Cath. Take it up with Sar," he replied casually, not hearing the door open as he spoke.

"Take what up with me?"

Nick looked up and nearly went weak in the knees at the sight of her. She looked damn good in a pair of tight black pants and a lavender sleeveless shirt with a plunging neckline. He unconsciously licked his lips but only Sara noticed.

"Oh, those two had a bet on us."

"What kind of bet?" Sara wondered genuinely, noting that if Nick was not worried then she shouldn't be either.

"One that involves the winner getting a full body massage," responded Warrick, smiling at the glowering woman beside him, her arms folded over her champagne colored tank top.

"And me apparently losing," she scowled.

"Now there's a sorry loser," pouted Warrick, rubbing the small of Catherine's back soothingly.

"What was the bet?"

"That there was something going on between us. Warrick bet no, Catherine lost and bet yes."

"Well then, enjoy that massage Warrick," Sara said with a smile.

"Hey Sar, do you have a white lace bra?" questioned Warrick curiously.

"Rick, every woman had a white lace bra."

"That's true," confirmed Catherine.

"Why?"

"A woman left it at his place."

"What, are we telling everyone now about my sex life?" said Nick, leaning back against the lockers, looking from Warrick to Sara.

"Well, she probably already knew it was there when she left your place without it."

"Weren't you the one who _didn't_ think that there was anything going on between Nick and I?" inquired Sara, defending herself as well as Nick.

"Yeah but the evidence seems to disagree with me."

"Warrick just enjoy your massage and the fact that you won."

"So there's really nothing going on between you two?" double-checked Catherine. The two both heard the hope in her voice and they hated to lie to their two good friends like they were.

"No, Cath. There's really not. Good luck with that massage though," said Nick, saying the last part sorrowfully.

"Well there should be something between you two," she mumbled, being escorted out by Warrick.

After they had left, Nick let out a sigh and rested his head back against the lockers. Sara sat directly in front of him on the bench and watched him.

"You would not believe what I went through on the way here."

"I offered you a ride," she lightly chided.

"I know and I should have taken it."

"He found your bra and it had a fudge stain."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"No, that's never going to come out."

He laughed quietly and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

"So he really thinks there's something between us?"

"Did we lie to them, Sara?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is there something between us?"

"We're friends."

"But are we lovers as well or boyfriend and girlfriend? What are we?"

"What do you want to be?"

"I don't know if I want a girlfriend right now."

"And I don't know if I want a boyfriend right now," she lied. She knew what she wanted. She had made up her mind lying in his arms that morning as he gently stroked her hair with his thick deft fingers and whispered in her ear that he loved how she did a certain thing with her hips and he loved how she said his name on a moan.

"So lovers?"

"It sounds good…for now," she said with a slightly suppressed grin.

"For now," he agreed.

She knew what she wanted all right and she was sure as hell going to get it.


	8. Son, I've Got Friends In Low Places

**Disclaimer: **I don't own or profit, nor do I have creating rights but I do have an imagination that allows me to play with Anthony's characters for a while until I give them back so he can write more.

"Friends In Low Places"- Garth Brooks, DeWayne Blackwell, Earl Bud Lee 

"That Summer"- Garth Brooks, Pat Alger, Sandy Mahl

Capitol Records

**Rating: **I haven't decided for this chapter, as I haven't written it yet. You can be assured that it's up there.

**Author's Notes: **Okay, what happened to the usual rating system on Suddenly, there's K, K, T, and M. What ever happened to the old school movie version? You can be assured that this is story may be rated 'M' (makes a gagging gesture) but in my eyes, it's still rated 'R' because it's a lot more fun that way.

Calm down, Chris, you'll get your dirty sex: D Is that short for Agatha Christy by any chance? My friend loves her.

How dare you inflict violence on Nicky, forensicsfan! I'm just kidding. What you do with/ to him on your own time is your business. Just leave some of him for the rest of us, okay? Ketchup Doritos are a figment of your friend's bizarre imagination… I think you should get her checked out, either that or get her to present the idea to Doritos so she can make billions of dollars off the idea and you can buy George. For us. In regards to the coffee: I have to inform you that I have succumbed to the "social pressures" of society and am now addicted to White Chocolate Mochas from Starbucks. And is there anything else I am worthy of calling you besides typing out forensicsfan every time? No? I tried.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Son, I've Got Friends In Low Places**

Luck would have it that Nick and Sara were working another case together but neither of them seemed to mind at all. Warrick was working alone while Catherine endured a night with Grissom. Slightly envious of his boss, Warrick had confessed this to Nick as the two walked towards the parking lot where Sara was waiting for her coworker.

"When do you get your Tahoe back?" asked Warrick, un-tucking his sunglasses from the breast pocket of his shirt and putting them on his face.

"In two days," he replied, looking up at the sky and squinting. "Damn, it's going to be a hot one tonight."

"Just take a cold shower before you go to bed," said Warrick coolly, nudging his friend a little hard in the ribs, which only received him a quick and playful punch in the arm.

"Off limits, man."

"Right. You'll tell me later," he responded sardonically, hardly believing that his friend was actually going to conceal her name to him.

"See ya, Rick."

"Yeah, later," he waved, watching Nick hop into the Tahoe, insisting that he drive again. Warrick shook his head at the pair and was starting to believe that Catherine was right, not that he was willing to give up his massage.

"Nick, you'll get your Tahoe back in two days. Why do you insist on driving mine?" Sara complained, reaching over and turning on the air conditioning full blast. It may have been seven thirty in the evening, but it could have easily been almost thirty degrees (About ninety if I did my math correctly for you Americans :D).

"Because I enjoy seeing you flustered, Sidle," he grinned back at her, pulling out of the parking lot without managing to hit anything or anyone.

They were on their way to another case on another hot evening and Sara couldn't care less if he drove her Tahoe as long as he didn't kill them or total it. Even when Nick turned on the radio to a country station, Sara didn't mind. It was a given that country was not her favorite but she didn't mind it entirely. In fact, she was beginning to love it a hell of a lot more when the Texan beside her began to sing a long in his sweet but deep voice that nearly sent her into a pool of liquid lust in her seat. His drawl was far thicker, she noticed when he sang, and she just sat there in silence basking in the glory of it.

"Oh my God, I love this song," he said cheerfully, leaning over and turning up the volume so that all she heard was an apparent live version of a song and then the first few chords.

She watched him curiously, waiting to hear what he was about to sing and damn her if she didn't stop breathing when he did.

"_Blame it all on my roots, I showed up boots and ruined your black tie affair. Last one to know, the last one to show, I was the last one you thought you'd see there. And I saw the surprise and the fear in his eyes when I took his glass of champagne and I toasted you said honey we maybe through, but you'll never hear me complain,_" Nick drawled out to the Garth Brooks song, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn green.

"And here I thought you were a terrible singer, Nicky," she smiled beside him, gazing at him intently.

He glanced over in her direction, flashing her a sexy grin. "This song really doesn't need to be sung. It's more of an adopt-a-southern-accent-and-say-the-words song. Lucky for me, I already have one."

"Yes, lucky you. And lucky me that I have to sit here and try not molest you while you drive," she murmured, more to the window then to the man next to her.

"Come again?" he said, his throat tight and his eyes wider than usual.

"You heard me, Cowboy."

"And why is it so hard not to molest me?"

"Just listening to you sing makes me want you," she whispered softly, meeting his eyes.

Nick flickered his stare from her to the road and then decided to take the exit up ahead.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to pull over."

"What? Nick, we are company time, remember!"

"Fuck company time," he growled lightly.

"We have to_ process a crime scene_," she stressed, "not screw in the backseat of the Tahoe! Now you get back on the highway right now!"

He glowered quietly in his seat and reluctantly flicked off his right turn signal. No exit. No sex. Just a very livid Sara Sidle beside him and an ache in his loins that was not going to be going anywhere any time soon.

"You are such a tease," he muttered in spite of her, keeping his eyes straight on the road, refusing to look at her.

"Don't be mad at me. We have a job to do and there are people counting on us to do it."

He ignored her though he knew that she was right and she knew that she was right. The song had finished to his dismay but it appeared that there was going to be a double play in which they played two songs by the same artist. Garth Brooks was by far his favorite country singer and Nick knew all the words to all of his songs.

"_Both needing something from each other, not knowing yet what that might be. 'Til she came to one evenin', hot cup of coffee and a smile, in a dress that I was certain she hadn't worn in quite a while,_" he sang a little quieter than before but out of the corner of his eye, he saw that it still had some effect on her. Her face appeared softer, less angry, and he saw her breathing deeply. Seeing her reaction to his voice also calmed his nerves so he continued to sing along and drive to the crime scene.

It was not until about two in the morning that Sara and Nick arrived back at the lab. The scene took longer than they had hoped to process since it expanded from the bedroom to the entire house, to the entire block. They went straight into the break room after handing over all of their evidence to either Trace or Greg, who was still on a sugar high from all of the chocolate he had eaten the day before.

Nick generously poured Sara a cup of freshly made Blue Hawaiian as well as some for himself. He handed her the mug and wanted her breathe in the aroma before taking a healthy gulp of it down. The small smile on his face was caught by the watchful eye of the woman in front of him seated at the table.

"What?"

"Nothing. You just look so cute mulling over your coffee."

"I like to appreciate fine coffee since Greg doesn't always bestow us his generosity. Sometimes we get that Folgers instant coffee or whatever it is that tastes like one of Grissom's experiments."

"I'll have to agree with you on that. But coffee is coffee. Sometimes you just need the caffeine and anything with suffice."

She nodded her head of brown hair and then set down her cup on the table. Paying little attention the agape mouth of Nick Stokes when she stretched her arms above her head, she let out a slight moan as if to tease him. Her muscles ached and she would give anything for that massage that Catherine was talking about the night before.

Nick couldn't help but what her, loving the eyeful of her breasts in the air and her shirt riding up to bare a little bit of her tummy. The sip he took burnt his tongue instantly and he put the mug down scornfully, giving it a nasty look.

"Tired?"

"Sore," she corrected and with that she watched as Nick leisurely made his way around the table to her and stood behind her where she could not see him.

"Stand up," he commanded and when she did, he moved aside the chair that separated them.

The moment his hands kneaded the muscles of her shoulders, she felt immediately at ease and braced herself, putting two flat hands on the table for the support. He had the perfect touch, knowing when to soften in certain places or grip harder in others. If humans could only purr, she thought quietly to herself, closing her eyes in ecstasy.

There was only the material of her shirt between his hands and her back but he could still feel the heat of her skin and how tense her muscles were. When he reached the small of her back, his hands gripping her sides and his thumbs working her tailbone, he gently shook his head in effort to rid the thought of sliding his hands lower so that he could have each cheek of her behind in his hands. She moaned softly as he dug the heels of his hands up her back and then down. Her body was so close to him and it was driving him insane that he had to keep this as PG as possible because anyone could walk in or by and see them doing the nasty on the table. Not that he minded entirely though they both would be out of a job.

"Nick," she murmured, her eyelids barely open.

He bent over her back, still massaging just over her kidneys, and tugged on her earlobe before taking it in his mouth, sucking it dexterously. The flat of his tongue gave one long lick up the curve of her neck, one hand forsaking her back to brush aside her hair. The other gradually slid around her waist to her stomach and pressed her back into his hard body. He could feel the small patch of skin between her shirt and her pants when she raised her hand to grip the back of his neck.

There was only the overwhelming flood of the scent of his soap on her flesh that consumed his entire senses. He yearned to have her writhing beneath him in the midst of passion but he settled willingly to slipping his hand down the front of her pants, cupping her with his deft hand.

A moan that he could feel beneath his lips as he kissed her neck was all it took for him to lose his control and sneak his fingers into her wet heat, eliciting another moan from her, this one a little louder but huskier. He drove his fingers into her in a slow and seductive tempo at first but he couldn't keep his desire on a leash, bring the pace up to hard, fast thrusts. Her body met his each time and he grinded his pelvis into her behind.

"Sara," he groaned when she reached behind her back and groped him through the denim.

Reluctantly, he removed his hand from her pants and with one last kiss on the ear, he withdrew entirely from her and went to the sink to wash his hands. He heard her pant behind him as his own breaths came out short and quick. He knew that when he turned around he would see her aroused but confused.

"Fucking company time," he mumbled as he past her and made his way quickly and painfully to the locker room to calm himself.

She stood there a little shocked that she had allowed herself to go that far in such an open area and she hoped that no one saw them. She bit her bottom lip and then decided to find Greg to see if he had any results yet. But as she walked down the hallway, feeling the heat slowly fade from her cheeks, all she could do was hear Nick's words running through her mind and she echoed them.

"Fucking company time."

**Author's Notes: **Everyone seems to think that Nick is a bad singer. I would like to believe that a man that hot and with such a fine voice could be able to carry a tune. And if you've heard "Friends In Low Places", you'll know that it takes little talent to sing to, unless you're one of my friends. Cough. Oh, and for the Fahrenheit thing, is it minus thirty and divide by two to get Celsius?


	9. Sorry Warrick

**Disclaimer: **I feel like the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher when I do this spiel: I don't own them, I didn't create them, and I never profit from them financially speaking. Waw waw waaaww. That's my impression.

**Rating: **I'll say that it's rated 'R' in setting hopes for a fun filled chapter. How does that sound? –Later- Let me correct myself: Hard (cough) R. One word: fellatio. –raises eyebrows- You wanted dirty Christy.

**Author's Notes: **To A Christy. I might just make them have really dirty sex. Or not.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Sorry Warrick**

She thought that she should have felt bad for Nick actually having the strength to pull away from her, to not hitch her up onto the break room table and fuck her into oblivion. It was find of her fault anyway, she rationalized. She did, after all, go on about her "company time" nonsense and had all day when poor Nicky was just a horny teenage boy inside. If he knew that she pitied him, she doubted that he would do anything with her just to show her that he had restraint, that he could keep a tight leash on his lust.

With a firm hand Sara pushed open the door of the locker room and saw him with his head against his locker door, breathing in and out very deeply, very steadily. He appeared to still be in a state of arousal and if she did say so herself, he was probably suffering from the worst case of blue balls. She had observed at the crime scene earlier each time she would brush up against him or give him an eyeful of her cleavage. Apparently his naughty imagination was working on overdrive all night and what had happened in the break room was not much of a help.

He had heard her come in, knowing that it was only her and no one else since everyone had gone to pick up doughnuts. It was what they did every Friday night only tonight he and Sara would not be there because they had to finish their case.

She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms low around his waist, one hand on his hard abs and the other on his hard erection.

"Need some help, Cowboy?" she whispered into his ear, giving him a firm squeeze in hello.

"Don't start something you won't finish, Sara," he warned, his voice husky and dark.

"Trust me, Nick. I am definitely going to finish you this time."

"Lock the door."

"No."

"What?"

"I'll take my chances. You're not going to last long anyways," she stated, unzipping his jeans with care before slipping her hand past the cloth barrier until she found warm, rigid flesh.

"You're willing to risk your career?"

"No one's going to be coming except you," she remarked and he chuckled at her dirty mouth. "Turn around."

"Sara –"

"Fine."

He thought that she was going to leave him there when he felt her hand slip out of his pants but he was surprised when she ducked under his arms that supported himself against the lockers, and dropped to her knees.

"What are you doing?" he said. She had never heard him sound so scared in his entire life.

"I believe you know how this goes, Nicolas," she smiled cheekily, pulling down his jeans and boxers until they were halfway down his thighs.

He was about to interject when she took him as far as she could in her mouth, mindful of her teeth. She gave him one hard suck and a twirl of her tongue around his tip before she sat back on her heels and looked up at him innocently.

"You were saying?"

"Absolutely nothing," he groaned out.

"I thought so."

With the tip of her tongue she flicked it against the underside of the head of his penis and took only that in her mouth while her hand idly stroked him and the heavier weight in between his legs. He thrust against her mouth though he tried not to, trying to urge her to pick up her pace. The sight of her winking up at him while he was hard in her mouth made him moan soundly, his voice reverberating against the walls.

She chuckled low in her throat and the vibrations coursed through him. She saw him clench his fist and squeeze his eyes shut, knowing that he was just teetering on the edge. Her hands ran up his bare legs and up to the small of his back where she decided that it would be a perfect time to mar his freshly healed back with her fingernails. She drew back a little bit and then took him further into her mouth, tasting the tip once more before he gave a loud, manly cry, exploding in her mouth. She was a little taken back but quickly complied by swallowing.

His hand reached down and stroked her hair with affection, the look on his face content as she sat back against the lockers, breathing slightly noisily at his feet. He fixed himself up as she tried to catch her breath and then he kneeled before her taking her in his arms.

"Jesus Sara," he drawled into her hair.

"You liked that?"

"Hell yeah," he said firmly, kissing her bottom lip with his. "Don't ever let me catch you doing that to anyone else."

"But Warrick was really looking forward to it," she teased, resting her head on his shoulder.

"That's too bad."

"I'll try to let him down gently," she replied, kissing his forehead and then standing up, smiling down at the sated man.

"You're mine."


	10. Saw It Off A Movie

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them, I didn't create them, and I do not profit off them.

**Rating: **PG-13 for this installment. Maybe even PG if I am willing.

**Author's Notes: **Oh Julie, I am sure that you can pen anything you wish. I enjoy/ ed the R fics that you wrote and found them very "interesting" if you will. I'm surprised with myself that I actually wrote that chapter. I was like, "Hey, maybe Julie is right. Maybe I should have Sara help Nick out in the locker room." One thing led to another and now I am in hiding. Someone is going to report me, I swear.

All right Fiian, since you said that I have to write three a day, here is my third. : D

And in reference to the orange juice and gasoline making napalm, I have no effing clue. It's off of _Fight Club_ so I assume that it's true.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Saw It In A Movie**

_You're mine,_ was all Sara could hear chanting in her mind as the CSIs chatted lightly around her, munching on doughnuts as they drank their coffees. She sat there beside Greg who was busy telling everyone a story about his roommate and the accident he had when he mixed equal parts of gasoline with frozen orange juice concentrate to make napalm.

"He saw it in a movie and he didn't think it was actually going to work."

"And it did?" wondered Nick, engrossed completely in the story.

"Well yeah. Napalm is an aluminum soap of various fatty acids that when mixed with gasoline makes a firm jelly used in some bombs and in flamethrowers."

"So then why orange juice?"

Greg shrugged. "Like I said, he saw it off a movie."

"And you didn't warn him?" said Grissom, slightly concerned.

"Man, he's fine. No one was hurt. I had no idea that orange juice and gasoline could make napalm. I didn't even know he wanted to make a bomb. I thought he was just being stupid."

"So what happened next?"

"He got arrested."

"Figures," muttered Catherine, rolling her eyes at the lack of intelligence of some youths. "I'm just surprised that you didn't get arrested too."

"Well, I have been known to be a ladies man, Catherine. I sweet talked my way out of it," boasted the lab tech, stretching his arms over his inflamed head and then folding his arms over his chest.

"You stayed inside and watched didn't you?" wondered Warrick dryly before taking a large bite of his strawberry icing doughnut with rainbow sprinkles.

"Yeah, well, you know…" he responded, scratching his head.

"So what happened to your case, Sara?" asked Grissom, curious to know why her and Nick weren't busy working.

"Accident," was her bleak reply.

"Wow, you two have had quite some soft breaks in your cases lately," remarked Catherine. "First, the boyfriend confesses to murder and now it's an accident."

Sara nodded distantly and it didn't go unnoticed by Nick. Ever since their little incident in the locker room, she had been rather quiet. Speaking only when someone was directly talking to her and giving monosyllables for answers. No one really noticed and if they did, they assumed that she was tired. Even Nick didn't know what she was thinking but he could see the wheels turning in her head and he doubted it was any good.

"Looks like we've got everything wrapped up here," announced Grissom, looking around the room at his CSIs and lab tech, a wannabe CSI. "Just put the reports on my desk before you leave." He left without another word and they all watched him leave.

"Where is our report?" questioned Nick.

"Grissom's desk," she replied, downing the rest of her cold coffee and then getting up to clean it.

"You're done already? I thought we were going to go over it together."

She heard the hurt in his voice but doubted that Warrick or Catherine even knew what they were saying. Catherine was busy brushing sprinkles out of Warrick's goatee and laughing at him while he smiled down at her.

"I know how much you hate paperwork and you were, well," her voice trailed off and finally she met his warm chestnut eyes. He filled in the blanks.

"Thanks. I've got it next time, alright?"

"Okay," she answered, turning her back to him once more to put away the mug.

He slowly got out of his seat and brought his empty cup with him. With Catherine distracting Warrick for the moment, Nick was able to drop a kiss on her neck and give her behind a firm squeeze.

You're mine. 

For some reason, she could not let the words die down. She wanted Nick, she wanted a relationship, but for some unbeknownst explanation, the words haunted her. Maybe it was because of the way he had said it. She felt like she was his plaything and she supposed that she was, just as he was hers. That was what they had agreed on after all but now she was beginning to want more.

In her mind, she had had a plan to achieve it but somehow she doubted Nick was ever going to see her as anything else but a good screw, she thought bitterly to herself. She told herself that Nick was not like his reputation of being a ladies man. Sara knew that he was not shallow, that he was caring, and that using someone was not how he was by nature.

"Am I giving you a ride?" said Warrick, apparently finished flirting with his blonde coworker.

"Nah, I think Sara is?" he said with a hint of a question in his voice, turning back to Sara for an answer. She nodded. "Nope, but thanks anyway."

"No problem."

Nick gave Sara a not so graceful and polite elbow in the ribs, pointing for her to look at the door where Warrick was leaving with an arm slung over Catherine's shoulders.

"They're adorable," Sara said genuinely.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tightly to his body, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Not as adorable as us, darlin'."

"No one is as adorable as us, Nicky," she said on a brighter note, giving him a chaste peck on the lips.

"Take me home, Sara," he asked, a huskier tinge in his voice than a moment ago.

There was slight hesitation in her demeanor before she even moved and when she did, Nick followed her keeping stride with, his hand sliding down her arm and then resting low on her hip.

This time Sara drove the Tahoe, glad to change it from the country station to something with a little more bass to it and she was afraid that if she left it on, Nick would eventually know a song and start singing to it. If he did, she would not be able to resist him when he would be saying goodbye.

It seemed like forever until the Tahoe was parked outside of Nick's place. It was bright outside and she heard the morning birds singing over the radio. She got out of her side and followed Nick up the never ending stairs to his front door. He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let her in.

"No, Nick. I think I'm going to go home and get some rest."

"You can always stay here and rest," he persuaded, taking her by the hand.

"Nick –"

"Honestly, Sara. I'll be a perfect gentleman."

She didn't want to give in but the heartbroken expression etched into his face broke her own heart and she complied. His knuckles skimmed her bare shoulders when he helped her take off her jacket and a shiver coursed down then back up her spine. As she kicked off her shoes gently, he asked, "Do you want anything to drink? To eat?"

"No. I just want to go to bed."

"Fine by me."

She followed him to his bedroom and nearly started laughing when she saw her chocolate stained bra on his bedside table.

"That's creepy Nick."

"I haven't had time to move it."

"Sure," she teased.

He smiled at her and then opened up his closet filled with shirts and sweaters. He pulled off his white socks and the shirt over his head, his back to her.

"Do you want a shirt or anything?"

"Um, yeah. I'll take a t-shirt."

He searched through the hangers and found something for her. He turned and gently threw it to her, unaware that she had stripped down to only her bra and underwear, which was a deep red satin. He swallowed hard and faced away, removing his pants. She had climbed into his king-sized bed, curled up on her side and he came behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She fit perfectly in the curve of his body and was instantly at ease.

"Goodnight, love," he murmured into her ear as he kissed it.

"Night Nicky."


	11. So Then What's the Problem?

Disclaimer: Refer to the other chapters.

Rating: I don't believe I Want George is going to be needing her A/C on, so I guess PG-13. Or maybe not.

Author's Notes: Julie, I forgot to tell you in the review I dropped you: I got a white chocolate Lindt bunny from my mom for Easter. If it makes you feel any better, I ate the ears first though it was mostly body.

And what's this "Americans don't call each other 'love'" nonsense? It's funny because after I finished reading that my friend on msn was like "thanks love" but she's Canadian. So is it just "darling" then or is there something else as well? Wow, I am just amazed.

And in regards to Fiian being ripped off, Gizzi, yeah, she kind of is getting robbed but I have sharing problems. : D

Thank you for all reviews everyone!

**Chapter Eleven:**

Through the haze of her sleep she could feel the edge of the bed nearer to her than it had been an hour ago. Nick was flush against her back, his arm protectively around her waist, and breathing deeply through the tendrils of sleep.

It had been at least the third time that she had woken up, unaccustomed to the feeling of someone sleeping with her let alone touching her while she slept. She shivered when Nick let out a deep breath across her skin and smiled as he buried his nose into her neck unconsciously. His hand was flat against the space between her breasts and his thigh was nestled high in between her legs. This was definitely something she could get used to, she found herself thinking as he shifted slightly.

What she wasn't expecting was his other leg coming up so that he was in the fetal position but it caused her to lose her balance since she was teetering on the edge of the bed. Face flat on the floor, Sara let out a frustrated growl and then a loud yelp when a body fell on top of her.

"Damn it Nick!" she cried, trying to roll over on her back so she could push his dead weight off of her.

"Sara?" he said, his voice husky with sleep and confusion.

"Get the hell off of me!"

"What?"

He opened is eyes and waited a moment for them to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom. He faintly saw Sara beneath him and it looked oddly like they were no longer on the bed.

"You weigh a ton! Get up!"

Struggling to get the fatigue out of his muscles, Nick sat up on the back of his heels, straddling her. He heard the loud sigh beneath him and instantly felt bad.

"Did I push you off the bed?"

"Yeah, kind of," she mumbled, rubbing her noise. "I think you broke my nose, you jerk."

"I didn't mean to!" he protested, the slight whine in his voice evident.

"Sure you didn't," she smiled softly. "If you wanted me out of your bed you could have said something, Nicky."

"Now why would I want you out of my bed, Sara Sidle, when I have worked for four years just getting you in it?" he murmured, bend down to whisper the words into ear. He looked her then in the eyes, his mouth only a mere inch apart from hers.

"Because you realized how jealous Greg will be."

He chortled lightly and rolled her eyes. "Should I be worried about Greg?"

"What does that mean?"

"Does Greg still have a chance with you?"

"I think it's pretty evident that he does."

He listened to her words and it took them a moment to register. "What? He does not!"

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?"

There was bewilderment written across his face. He had no idea where she was going with this, what she wanted him to say or do. His words were lost somewhere in his throat and he just sat there atop of her, his mouth slightly agape, with a frown across his brow.

"Well?"

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Nothing. I mean, I get to sleep with as many guys as I want. I'm not complaining."

In her mind she had thought of all the ways to run the "boyfriend/ girlfriend" thing across Nick without losing his attention or having him brush her off. Making him jealous and putting him in a situation he could not drawl his way out of, seemed perfect. Now was the most opportune moment, she figured.

"Then doesn't that mean I get to sleep with as many girls as _I_ want?" he countered, starting to see where she was going with this.

"I suppose but I don't see them lining up anywhere, Nicky," she jested, poking him in the ribs.

"Let's count how many you have, Sidle. You've got Greg. That's one."

She could see him holding up one solitary finger in the air.

"And you."

"Fine. Two."

"I'm sure Warrick would always be game for it."

Through the darkness she could not see his eyes narrow at the implication that his best friend would take her to bed. The idea sickened him that she would have sex with any other guy when she was having sex with him. She knew he was possessive and she knew that he could get envious at times, and she was using it to her advantage somehow, he slowly realized.

"What are you about?" he wondered suspiciously.

"Nothing."

"Yes you are. Is there something you want, Sara?"

There was a moment's pause in which she sat there beneath him thinking what she wanted to say, whether she wanted to continue to dance around the idea or simply just come out and tell him. She was beginning to become sick of playing games, as fun as they were at times, but when it came to the matters of her heart, she wanted answers not sly comments that pleased her.

"I want _you_, Nick," was her simple reply said evenly and matter-of-factly.

"You have me already," he responded.

She could tell that he didn't get what she was trying to say.

"No, Nick. I want you to be more than my… fuck buddy."

A cringe surged through his body at her choice of words but he understood that there was really nothing else that she could call them. That's exactly what they were only more blunt than he would have put it.

"What, then?"

She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes at his innocence. "You are no help."

"Well, Sar, I have no idea what you're trying to say. Do you want me to be your boyfriend or something?" he asked, irritation lacing his tone.

"Yes!"

"Oh."

"Don't sound too thrilled," she muttered dryly.

"No, no. It's not that. I just didn't think that you wanted…that."

"Well I do but I know that you don't."

"What gave you that impression?"

"You telling me that you didn't want a girlfriend."

"And I do believe that you said that you didn't want a boyfriend?"

"I lied."

"Sara, we could never get away with it at work."

"But we can get away with having sex?"

Again, he was at a loss for words. It's not that he didn't want to date her because in fact, the though was coursing through his mind more often these days than it ever had been before.

"I want to date you –"

"So then what's the problem?" She could no longer control the small anger that was beginning to rise in her voice.

"There is no problem," he answered, kissing her sweetly on the lips.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, as long as you are."

She smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him for all he was worth.

"Just promise me you won't be a bigger tease now at work than you already are."

**Author's Note: Are you happy now, Julie? They are OFFICIALLY a couple. : D**


	12. Sorting Things Out

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them (Actually, I own George he just doesn't know it), I didn't create them and I do not make any money off them.

**Rating: **PG/ PG-13?

**Author's Notes: **Thank you everyone for reviewing. And I thought I should let you all know that sadly tomorrow I go back to school and back to rugby fulltime so I will not be updating three times a day. Just when I got you all hooked, eh?

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Sorting Things Out**

It had taken them another hour to get out of bed. Nick had offered to make them some dinner and Sara was more than happy to oblige by lying in bed with a dreamy expression etched into her face. She could faintly smell what he was cooking, the door to his bedroom open a crack, pouring in the light from the hallway. His deep melodic voice filled her ears and sent a smile across her face as she heard him singing some country tune. He knew that she would hear him and that only made her smile wider.

After a few more minutes of enduring the delicious smell and his voice that overwhelmed the room, Sara searched for the shirt of Nick's that she had thrown to the floor in the middle of the her sleep before Nick had nudged her off the bed face first, before he had ungracefully asked her out. She pulled the navy blue, oversized t-shirt with some Frat symbol on it.

"What a dork," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

What she hadn't heard when she opened the door and started walking down the hall and around the corner, was the doorbell ringing and Nick answering in. Warrick stood in the doorway before Nick invited him and all Sara could do was watch it happen, her standing there with an open mouth. If it wasn't obvious already that she had slept in his bed by the docile and content look on Nick's face, surely her standing there in his t-shirt – and only his t-shirt – would make it clear.

"Sara?" Warrick said, a frown across his brow, taking in the sigh of her disheveled hair and the shirt that was blatantly Nick's, her long legs peaking out. "What are you doing?"

"Dying," was her only response. She stood there frozen to the spot with a 'deer in the headlights' look on her face.

"Looks like I owe Catherine the massage then," he said with a smug grin.

The entire time Nick stood there, the doorknob still in his hand and a spatula in the other. His mind had gone completely blank until panic settled in.

"She slept in the bed, I slept on the couch," he said, the words could not have tumbled off his tongue any faster and Warrick barely caught them.

"Somehow, I doubt that," Warrick replied coolly, smiling at the two of them. "So how long has this been going on for?"

Neither of them answered until a thought hit Warrick in the head like a pile of bricks. "You're the one that he was in the shower with," he drawled leisurely, a smirk creeping across his thick lips.

She took a step back as she frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Nick's shower. You guys were 'implementing the crime scene.'"

"You told him," she deadpanned.

"He found it by himself," was his defense.

"Nick!"

"He threatened to lift a print that was yours. I never told him who it was!"

"But you were going to," said Warrick smugly.

"Honestly, what was he going to do with it? Take it to Greg and be like 'Hey, run this through AFIS' despite the fact that he's not on a case?"

"Actually no. I would have compared it to you."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I had a hunch that it was you in there with him."

"Yeah? You had solid evidence?"

"The evidence never lies," mumbled Nick distantly, staring at the big 'T' in the middle of the room on the carpet.

"Yeah, but the suspect does," added Warrick, sending a reproving look at Nick.

"You can't tell anyone, War. Not even Catherine," Sara began, taking a step towards him.

"Why can't he?" wondered Nick, looking up at her in question from the ground.

"I thought you wouldn't want this to be public," she said incredulously but with a tinge of timidity.

"What have we got to lose?" Nick shrugged.

"Our jobs," she pointed out simply.

"There's nothing that says that a coworker cannot have relationships with another coworker," he stated.

"Yeah, that's because we're all science geeks," muttered Warrick. He looked up at them and then added, "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Of course not. Not with you and Catherine and all," countered Sara, giving him a knowing grin.

"There's nothing official between us. Now you and Nick on the other hand…"

"Just as long as you two don't 'irresponsibly' use the evidence room table, I don't think anyone is going to complain. Except maybe Greg."

Nick shot her a look and she only smiled back.

"Why the evidence room? That and the morgue are the last two places in the lab I would have sex in," remarked Sara.

"Quietest room in the entire lab," Warrick replied frankly.

For a moment there was a pause between the three friends. Sara was thinking about how weird this was going to be with Warrick and everyone else knowing. She wasn't used to having people being involved in her life, let alone her romantic life. Nick was debating whether or not Grissom should know, him being the boss and all. Nick figured that he would eventually figure things out. He was, in fact, a CSI after all. And Warrick was dying to get out of his coworker's apartment so that he could call up Catherine and tell her the news as soon as he got out the door.

"Does this mean I can tell Catherine?" he wondered, flickering his gaze from the Texan to the woman standing awkwardly to the side.

"Why don't you tell Greg? It'll get around the lab a lot faster," stated Sara sardonically.

"Oh that's a great idea."

"I was kidding!" she interjected as Warrick made his way to the door that was still open. "Warrick!"

The man was already out the door after Nick closed it before Sara could yell anything profane at him. She had taken a few steps closer to Nick without realizing it and again she felt the discomfort of standing there in only his shirt.

"It's official," he said lightly, a smile on his thin lips.

"Yeah. I guess it is."

"You don't want to back out, do you?"

"No," she replied quickly. "No, I was just trying to think of all the ways I could kill Warrick while making it look like an accident."

"Blame it on Greg."

"There's no motive."

"Warrick having a thing with Catherine? I consider that a motive for Greg. You could plant a few hairs, steal his shoes or blood for that matter –"

"Okay Nicky, calm down. I was kidding."

"Damn. I was serious."

She closed in the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, looking up at him with a content smile on her lips.

"Fine. If he ever makes a pass at me, you can kill Greg."

"If he ever _looks_ at you in a way I don't approve of, I'll kill him."

"Or that too."


	13. Savor The Taste

**Disclaimer:** I don't profit from them, I do not keep them in little cages with mail slots for their food to go through, and I did not have the privilege of creating them.

**Rating:** Let's just say that IWantGeorge is going to be needing her A/C on high and it just got hotter in Seattle, as well as all of Canada.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for reviewing everyone!

Fiian, darling, _homo _sapien of mine. I love you and only wish that you could fit Kevin (cough) Sven (cough) in your mouth.

Alex: Though and I have two different, yet the same, ideas of what 'quarantine' means, I meant it to be like the summary says: "Nick needs to get someone out of his system." Apparently Sara is a disease now. But nonetheless I got it off this "Ad ware" program that I have that gets rid of viruses. You click 'Quarantine' when you want to rid of them.

Krys: I have accepted the fact that George covered in chocolate is more calories than I need but I do think that it's probably somewhere around 6/7 (Eight if you're hopeful) calories… not 5. But maybe we're talking about two _completely _different things. And thank you oh so much for the chocolate covered cherries. Oh, and I am officially stealing "hunk of man flesh" from you. Consider it jacked, hon.

A Christy: Yeah, Canada! Don't worry about the 'love' thing. I don't think Americans really call each other that either. My friend is from Pakistan… yeah. And I know: I write it and I'm like: "There is no way that Nick would say that," but as I warned earlier, I am not that great at writing about other peoples' characters. I would never forget about you people!

Melarien: I love _Finding Nemo _and thank you for the review.

Stoked55: Again, yeah Canada! I'm glad that you jumped on the proverbial ban wagon. Ban-wagon jumpers are welcome with open arms. By the way, I am dedicating this "untamed" chapter to you, Fiian, A Christy, Krys, Julie, and everyone else. There's sex. Enjoy it. Savor it. Implement it.

Sorry about the long author's notes. There's just so many.

Claire (That is my real name, FYI)

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**Chapter Thirteen: Savor the Taste**

It turned out that Nick had started to make spaghetti for the two of them before Warrick had intruded on them rightfully. Apparently, Nick had made plans to play video games with him and Sara had made Nick forget about everything, even his own name at certain blissful moments.

Sara watched Nick with a keen eye as he had his back to her, stirring the sauce slowly with the wooden spatula. She was still in a state of shock that Nick was willing to go public with their newfound relationship. The thought that he wanted everyone to know that he was hers and she was his made her smile and slightly excited. It didn't bother her one bit if she got to showcase him off and let everyone know that he was taken.

The thought of having to tell Grissom that she was dating Nick worried her and made her anxious for work on Monday. Eventually, he would find out via Greg or she could just tell him straight up and get it done with. She preferred the former as it involved no interaction with her boss but the latter is what she knew he would want.

Sara quickly shoved thoughts of work aside and continued to lean against the edge of the kitchen table, her arms folded loosely over her chest. Her mind started to wander into thoughts of Nick wearing less than the pair of boxer briefs he was adorning now and how his well-muscled back felt in her hands. That's what she really wanted to do: to indulge in his body and not much else. She wanted him, plain and simple.

"It's almost ready," he said over his shoulder, meeting her gaze for a moment before he turned back to the pasta. Except something had caught his attention and he slowly faced her, looking at her quizzically. "Are you all right, Sar?"

"I'm fine," she purred, devouring him with her eyes.

"Do you want to clear the table?" he asked softly, regarding her with care and wonder.

"Sure." She removed the couple of newspapers from the surface of the table and placed them neatly on the counter beside the microwave.

When she turned back to retrieve any other things that needed to be removed from the table, she found it bare. And then an idea popped into her mind, a smile breaking across her lips.

The pasta bowls were already beside the stove for Nick to dish out the portions and as he began to ask how much she wanted, turning slightly to see her with a plate in hand, he was shocked to find her perched on top of the table, no longer wearing his t-shirt.

"Sara?" he squeaked out.

"Yes, Nick?"

"Um, what are you doing?"

"Some call it seduction, I call it 'get-the-hell-over-here,'" she droned evenly, her eyes level with his.

"What about dinner?" he wondered innocently, placing the bowl down carefully and turning off the stove.

"So you would pick me over a double double animal style burger but you wouldn't pick me over spaghetti?"

"That's not –"

"That's all right. I understand," she said, knowing full well what his choice would be. She gradually began to slide off the table but he was quick in getting there to stop her. "So you want me after all?"

"You know I do," he murmured into her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter against his body.

"Show me," Sara whispered, her hand cupping the back of his neck and the other lost underneath the hem of his shirt.

He was the first to dive in for a kiss and when he did, the passion of it hit her with force. She clung to him for dear life, complying to his skillful mouth working hers and his tongue deftly playing with her own. His kisses were long and slow, then abruptly short and quick. One hand was caressing its way along her thigh while the other drifted up her torso to cup her breast in his hand. He squeezed gently at first with a soft kiss and then made her groan into his mouth when he became more callous with his lips and his hand. His hips were rocking into hers as she fought for breath. Finally, she tore away from his mouth and gazed at him heatedly.

"Didn't see that coming," she replied lightly, a faint grin on her bruised lips.

The response from him was a mere smile playing upon his thin lips until he shed his shirt, discarding it in the other room, and watched her run her hands up over his abs to his chest. She sighed longingly before taking one of his nipples gently in between her teeth, his hand taking a fistful of her wavy chestnut hair. Her tongue followed suit along with a thumbnail teasing the other one. Kisses were given across his torso and his clean-shaven throat. Her teeth scraped along the flesh of the curve of his neck before she nipped at his jawbone to his earlobe.

Nick felt her two hands descending down his back with a deliberately taunting pace until she grabbed each cheek of his behind and met his pelvis with hers, bringing him forward. He rubbed against her and tried to be just as teasing and a flirt as she was, only he had less self-control and restraint over his body than she did.

"Sara," he moaned into her neck, nibbling her collarbone a moment before as she slid down his cotton briefs to the floor with the help of her feet.

His head dipped low to her breast and she arched into his mouth when he tasted her flesh, his hand coming around to rest flat against the middle of her back to press her firmly to his lips. His teeth returned the favor and tugged not so carefully on the sensitive skin at the centre of her breast while his other hand gripped her hip, keeping her body in place.

The head of him slipped inside of her and she let out a throaty moan, not even attempting to conceal it one bit. She breathed shakily on his shoulder, her hands gripping tightly there as well, and her eyes were squeezed shut. She was dying for him to fill her entirely and wanted nothing more than to feel him completely.

When their lips met again, Sara dominated the kiss and rendered him weak in the knees. He gripped the back of her knees and just stood there in between her legs kissing her passionately. A muffled groan consumed the kitchen when Sara relinquished her oppression and gave a swift thrust of her hips, sending him further inside of her.

"Condom," he struggled out, resting his forehead against hers as he pulled out of her, loving the groan that she made with the lack of contact.

"Nick," she pleaded, grabbing him by the base of his erection and giving a hard stroke.

"This…I…we need…" he said with great effort, striving to make a coherent sentence let alone words and letters.

The grip she had on him was bringing him closer to the edge and he felt like he was going to burst right there, leaving her unsatisfied.

"You need to… to s-stop."

"No."

"Yes," he said a little more willfully, taking her hand reluctantly off of him. "We need a condom and… I need… to take a m-moment."

She knew he was right and when he gave her a small kiss on the lips, his hand resting on her cheek, she allowed him to leave without her protesting. Besides, she didn't mind admiring his bare behind as he walked out of the kitchen and to his bedroom. Faintly, she heard the sound of a drawer closing and then he was there standing in the doorway of the kitchen, gazing at the aroused woman sitting on his kitchen table, legs dangling over, with a need in her eyes that only he could sate.

"You brought the whole box?" she remarked, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't we cocky?"

He chuckled and was about to make a comment before she cut him off. Smiling at her, he tore open the box and ripped off one of the packages off the ribbon of them. There was another distinct ripping sound and then she observed eagerly as he sheathed himself with latex.

"Come here, cowboy," she purred, wrapping her legs around his thighs loosely when he came to her.

An ardent kiss lured her in as he persuaded her to lie down on the table, the touch of cool wood to her skin making her shiver beneath him. He kissed from her lips down to her bellybutton and then dropped a kiss between her legs along with a firm, exploring lick. Her hips rose slightly and her back arched.

"Nick," she implored.

Her plea was answered when he consumed her entirely, sliding into her with ease and utter fulfillment. He stood there for a moment, calming himself but she wasn't helping when she grinded her hips into his in a feverous pace. Surrendering, he pulled out until only the tip of him was inside of her and then plunged back inside of her. Nick gave hard, thorough thrusts as she sat up, tightening her embrace of her legs around him.

The angle wasn't just right, not with her sitting like she was on the table, so he held her to him gripping the flesh of her bottom in his hands, and pressed her hard up against the nearest wall. His hand seized the back of her knee as the other held her by her behind, urging her to his body. Her hips met his each time he dove into her body and Sara clung to his back with her nails.

Inside of her she could feel the tension rising, the energy hastily beginning to want to erupt and when she did climax, she bit down on Nick's shoulder, stifling her cry. One, two, three thrust later and he fell over the edge growling loudly, his forehead resting on the wall next to hers.

They waited a moment to steady themselves and when Nick slowly let Sara stand her knees gave in. He caught her smoothly and smiled, angling his head to plant a kiss on her red lips.

"Damn, Sara," he whispered against her mouth, his voice rough like sandpaper. "You sure know how to work those hips of yours."

Her smile was modest as she regained her composure, standing on her own this time as she tried to tidy up her hair.

"Well I know you like it."

"You're damn right I do. Don't ever lose it."

"I have no intentions of doing so," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He hitched her up around his waist and carried her out of the kitchen.

"What about dinner?" she mocked, smiling at him.

"It's nothing that can't be reheated. Now how about a shower?"


	14. Someone Isn't Happy

**Disclaimer: I do not own them, I do not profit from them, I did not create them, and I will return them once I am done playing with them… well, maybe not George…**

**Rating: PG/ PG-13 for this enstallment.**

**Author's Notes: Thank you for all the reviews! I always enjoy seeing that I have five new emails in my inbox and seeing that they are reviews! **

**Also, I think either this chapter or the next could possibly be the conclusion to 'Quarantine.' I think I might cry. But don't worry, I will write more stories and ficlets!

* * *

**

**Chapter Fourteen: Someone Isn't Very Happy**

There would be no harm in screwing Nick Stokes on top of the break room table where everyone sat around as Grissom handed out case files for everyone, Sara thought quietly to herself. No, no harm at all. Everyone would continue on with their work and discussions while they did the nasty right then and there.

"Sara?" said Grissom for the third time, looking at her intently as she stared at something on the other side of the room.

"Hmm?" she replied alert, whipping her head to meet Grissom's pale blue eyes. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Here's your case. You and Warrick are going to be working together tonight."

"Oh, all right," she answered, reaching forward to take the brown folder that he held out for her.

"Nick, Catherine: you two have a battery and assault case on the outskirts of town."

"What about you, Gris?" wondered Nick, leaning back casually in his chair.

"I have the night off," he responded matter-of-factly.

"You, taking the night off?" remarked Warrick. "That's unbelievable."

"Well, believe it, Warrick."

"Got a date?" inquired Catherine with a smug grin across her painted pink lips. There was no answer as she watched him organize a bunch of already organized papers before him, his eyes purposely avoiding hers. "You do, don't you?"

"What I do on my off time is my own personal business."

"Grissom's got a date," chatted Greg, his back to the CSIs as he filled his third cup of coffee for that night.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" asked Warrick, leaning back against the edge of the counter, trying to look the lab tech in the eye.

"I'm fine."

Warrick chuckled deeply and rolled his eyes.

"All right everybody lets go. These cases aren't going to solve themselves," Grissom ordered, standing up at the head of the table.

"Just tell us her name," implored Catherine, closing her folder as she stood out of her chair.

"Heather," he replied with an even, respectable voice.

"As in Lady Heather?" inquired Greg, whirling around on his heel, his lab jacket whipping behind him. "As in _dominatrix_ Lady Heather?"

"She's more than a dominatrix, Gregory," Gil defended.

"Yeah, I'm sure she's submissive too," he muttered.

Warrick's quiet laughter joined Nick's soft chuckle until they were both shot down with an icy glare from their boss.

"What was that, Greg?"

"Nothing," he replied hastily, making a beeline for the door, sipping his coffee as he briskly exited.

"Are we done here?" wondered Grissom.

They all nodded and got out of their seats, trailing behind their boss as he left the room. Only Nick and Sara had remained. He gulped down his remaining coffee and she watched as the liquid was eagerly swallowed down his throat, his Adam's apple moving up and down. She yearned to take a healthy bite into his neck but let out a frustrated sigh instead.

"Something wrong, Sar?"

"No," she answered back, with a shake of her head and her voice light.

"Too bad you're stuck with Warrick, huh?"

"I think I'll manage without you for a night," she stated with a smirk on her lips.

She saw his ego deflate a little bit and the bruise that her words left behind. He turned his back to her as he cleaned his mug but she refused to be shut out by him, even if it was as a joke. She sneaked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, dipping her hands into the front of his jeans, kneading him through cotton.

"But of course I'll miss you," she purred into his ear before taking it in between her teeth and gently tugging.

"Sara," he warned, his hands resting flat on the cool surface of the counter for support.

"What?"

"Anyone could walk in."

"I think that's my job to say, Nicky," she mumbled against the flesh if his neck.

"Damn it, Sar," he groaned when her caresses turned into strokes that were lingering and firm.

"And in case you haven't noticed, _Grissom _could walk in right now and I wouldn't care," Sara added frankly, her bravado as well as her libido in full bloom at the moment.

"You wouldn't?" said a voice from behind them, in the general direction of the door. The person didn't sound too pleased.

Sara recognized the voice immediately and swallowed hard, easing her hands out of the front of Nick's pants. She cautiously looked over her shoulder and took in the sight of her boss leaning against the doorframe, his eyebrow raised in question.

"I don't think I have to tell you that this is completely inappropriate behavior CSI Three Sidle," Grissom chastised evenly, his voice a little more stern and abrasive than it had been a moment before.

Her eyes were cast the floor and her words were stuck somewhere in her throat.

"In my office. _Now_."

Before she could say another word, Grissom briskly marched down the hallway towards his office, his anger slipping to the surface of his face.

"Someone isn't very happy," murmured Greg, sauntering into the break room with ease.

"Can it, Greg," muttered Nick, finally turning around once he had recovered himself.

The lab tech raised both hands in defense as well as his eyebrows, quickly spinning around on his heel and exiting the break room.

In the meantime Sara stood motionless in the middle of the quiet room, contemplating what exactly she was going to do. She had to face Grissom, there were no two ways about that but what was she going to tell him that would not compromise her job? He wouldn't tolerate any affectionate gestures between the two, especially the one she had been giving Nick when Grissom had walked in, and Sara knew that.

"Sara, you better see him," murmured Nick, resting his hand on her shoulder lightly and friendly.

"Do you think that you should come with me? Help me explain things?"

"There's not much to explain, Sar. We're in a relationship. There's nothing Grissom can do about that."

Nick saw something flash through her eyes for just a second, causing him to frown.

"We are still in a relationship, right?"

"Of course. I just don't want to lose my job over this."

"Neither do I," Nick paused and looked her in the eyes, gripping her upper arms. "But I care about you."

She didn't let him say another word. Her quick press of lips to his silenced him and before he knew it, she was already halfway down the hall to face Grissom.

When she knocked on the door, she heard her boss bark at her to come in. Silently, she closed the door behind her and stood there, her hands twined together and her eyes to the ground.

"Take a seat." The voice was distant and she could have sworn that there was an underlying pain in his tone.

Compliance.

"Sara…" he trailed off, shaking his head, not knowing precisely to say for the first time in a long time. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nick and I…we're together, in a relationship."

It hadn't really felt nor seemed like the two of them were until she said it now, until she said it to the person that she had preciously fancied but no longer did. Her mind hadn't been on Grissom and weeks, almost a month, and she couldn't be happier. In fact, she hadn't been happier.

"Is that what that was?"

"Do I have to explain coitus to you, Gil?"

"No, and there will be none of it in my lab."

"There wasn't going to be."

"What if some else were to have seen, Sara? If I didn't know that you are one of the best CSIs here and otherwise compliant to the rules, and I saw _that_ in the break room? I would…"

"You would what?" she challenged, locking gazes with him at last.

"I would bring it to someone's attention in higher rank than me."

"Why?"

"There's no reason for that to be going on in a forensic laboratory or any other work place for that matter. Your behavior was lewd, irresponsible, and I am suspending the two of you for one week. When you come back, I hope you have your priorities straight, Sara."

"What? Why Nick?"

"Sara, don't argue with me."

"And I do have my priorities straight, Gil."

"Then your boyfriend is more important than a case that you should be on right now? You're supposed to be at a crime scene, not in the break room –"

Sara abruptly got out of her chair and stared down at him. "I'm not going to listen to you berate me, Grissom. I'll see you in a week."

The door slammed shut behind her and he let out an audible, exasperated sigh. Only a few months ago she had asked him to have dinner with her in hopes of pursuing something greater and now she was off with her Texan coworker. Had she gotten over him already? Gil wondered, leaning back considerably in his chair. He sighed once more and then slowly started to lose himself in his work like he often did, ignoring the events around him.

"Come on, Nick. We're leaving," announced Sara, finally finding him in the locker room.

His locker was already open and his bag was sitting on the bench as he packed some dirty clothes into it. He glanced up at her and then back down into the depths of the bag.

"I know. I ran into Greg. He overheard everything. One week, huh?" There was a tinge of sadness yet forced lightness in his voice and she immediately went to him, embracing him.

"Nick, I'm so sorry."

"Sar, it would have happened sooner or later. I'm just glad we get some time off together." His smile was genuine as he gazed down at her face, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"It could be worse, I guess," she sighed, trying to see through his optimistic eyes, letting her anger be suppressed.

"Yeah. We could have been fired and if he'd walked in a few minutes later, we probably would have been," he grinned lewdly.

Her small smile was sheepish while she rested her head against his solid chest.

"We better get going," she murmured, a handful of his t-shirt in her grasp.

"Why? We've got the locker room all to ourselves," he remarked, a slow grin creeping across his face. "Now where were we before Grissom rudely interrupted us?"

**Author's Note: Okay, so next chapter or possibly the one after that is the last chapter. Any suggestions for an ending? **


	15. Soap, Lather, Rinse, Repeat

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them yadda-yadda-yadda I didn't create them. Anywho who watches Seinfield know what I mean?

**Rating:** You asked for locker room action and hell, I'll give it you. In other words, A/Cs are going to be broken, and Canada and Seattle are having tropical weather.

**Author's Notes: **Oliphnt: I'm aware of the difference between "you're" and "your" and I am now aware of the fact that I made that error twice. I apologize.

Aside from the fact that I love everyone who reviews, there are some of you that I love more (just kidding) and I apologize for how long this is:

Julie: Spa Day, eh? Sounds…interesting and like something that I could write about only not really a spa per say. Hmm… And how could you do that to me? Offer Fiian a chocolate covered George with _cherries_ and _whipped cream_? But I do like your idea of buying the break room table and Nick does need a new shower so…

Krys: Yes the eyes and the ass do it for me too but I like to think that _all _of him does it for me, especially the accent – pauses to drool – and the smile. Aw… And in regards to the "Is there more?" there is _always_ more. Yes, I'm sure breakfast between the three of them would go over _very_ well. As for the date with Lady Heather, I might divulge more about that if that's what you were referring to.

Fiian: Refer to the "does it do it for you" in Krys' notes. Sound familiar? I might share my chocolate covered George with you on your birthday despite the fact that a) it's in August and b) I'll have eaten him, I mean the chocolate, by then. Besides…you have Orli and Hugh! Actually, I was referring that the weather was a homo.

I Want George: My favorite line of you're your review is: "hilariously awkward." That was slightly the idea though I don't really think I write humor too well so I don't try. BTW, grab your remote control for the A/C!

Annie: Yes, I know. I don't want it to end either but I think I could get a few more chapters out of this story. There is such a thing as overkill in my eyes.

Space: Chuckles. Lock the door so Grissom doesn't walk in again. Hmm…

Anushka: Cool name btw. Yes, my separation anxiety is problematic but I accept that there may never be help for me or for the rest of the females that drool over George. And, let's face it, we all like thinking that he is ours and only ours. Sigh.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Soap, Lather, Rinse, Repeat. **

"Sara, I don't think this is the right time for this," Nick pointed out, mumbling against her lips.

"You said that last time."

"Yeah, and Grissom walked in and then almost fired us."

"He's on a date, remember?" she replied, peeling the layer of clothing off of his chest and forsaking it somewhere behind her.

"We don't even know if he's left yet."

Sara grabbed for Nick's wrist and said aloud the time with a raised eyebrow. "I think he's gone by now."

"Where did you get all this bravado from, Sidle?" Nick wondered sardonically and teasingly, poking her in the ribs with his finger. "Before you were quite the proper young lady. What happened?"

"I got sick of being proper," she stated, echoing his words back to him.

"All right," he drawled out, a newfound look in his eyes that shimmered awfully like a challenge. "Right here, right now."

There was an amused expression across her face, almost like she didn't believe him. She had, indeed, wanted to take him where they were as fast and hard as humanly possible but a part of her knew that Nick wouldn't do it. Ladies man, yes, but an exhibitionist at work willing to lose his job? She didn't see it and as much as she herself could have screwed him in the break room, it was all fun and games. She could wait until they got home.

The amused look faded slightly when he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open and withdrew a square package. Carelessly, he threw his wallet down on the bench behind her and put the square in between his teeth as he made a move to take off his shoes and socks.

All Nick had to do was drop the two remaining garments that without them would have defined him naked, and he did without shame before he abruptly stripped her of her own clothes, flinging them away.

Without hesitation, he strolled into the showers, without stalls and open for everyone to see, watch, stare or mind their business, and turned the cold, metal knob before the rushing hot water poured down on him. She stood there at the edge of the pink tiled floor with matching walls, gazing at him with curious eyes filled with desire and need. He gestured for her to be next to him though she knew he would have her against the wall, kissing her in no time.

"Here?" she asked, slowly walking over to him.

Nick had the largest urge to grab her and pull her to him for she seemed to be taking her sweet time as well as eternity to get to him. Nodding, he held out his hand for her to take and when she did, he tugged her lightly with an unexpected force and had her back against the cool, smooth tile, his naked body pressing into hers.

"Nick," she murmured, breathing his name as he kissed her softly but passionately before lifting her up, eyes meeting eyes, and wrapping her legs around his waist.

The water was swimming off of his head and he stepped back, Sara still wrapped around his waist, letting the water soak her hair. He held her with one arm, the other running from her stomach up to her neck before it went into her hair. Kissed were placed across her chest, his tongue flicking out over her hard nipple before it was taken in between his teeth, tugging back gently.

"What if some one was to come in?" The words took her a lifetime to form on her tongue for he took her breath away when his teeth caught her bottom lip and pulled back gently, looking her intently in the eye.

"Most of the team will in a matter of minutes. Break should be up shortly."

"Minutes?" she squeaked but his laughter only flushed her face, her broad and saucer-like eyes nevertheless piercing him.

"Yes," he whispered, nibbling at her jaw and her throat while both of his hands cupped her bottom, squeezing firmly but friendly.

When he thrust himself into her, equipped, he was relentless and overwhelming, taking her mind off of everything, the worry and wariness flowing out of her limp fingertips that rested on either side of his neck.

The water trickled down her body and he noticed it as he moved inside of her, taking her hard and fast. Little beads of water were on her breasts, gliding around her nipples while the water ran strong down his bare back.

Sara leaned into him and licked his throat in one long steady stroke, gliding over his Adam's apple before her lips traveled up to his ear and nipped gently at the flesh with her teeth, caressing the curve with her skillful tongue.

He moaned her name while he was still hard inside of her.

Neither of them heard two of the last CSIs come into the change room, unaware of the sexual and lusty activity going on. All they heard was the beating of water on the tile floor of the showers; the cries and moans from the lovers drowned out in the sound of the crashing.

Warrick took a step into the shower, frowning his brow. Greg had told him that Grissom had left earlier while Nick and Sara were on suspension. His jaw nearly hit the floor as he stopped dead at the sight of his close friend with a gorgeous, wet and desirable woman, naked, straddling and consuming him whole. Backing away quietly, shifting his eyes off them, he faced Catherine

Sara's head rolled back and rested on the tile behind her, her hair sticking annoyingly to her flushed face. The orgasm ripped through her and she muffled her cry with bending her head over Nick's shoulder, his arms on either side of her against the wall, biting his shoulder. There was a slight wince worn on his face but it was filled more with pleasure and shock than pain.

There was a loud clearing of throat, which Nick thought he heard but ignored it. It was hard to tell over the torrent of water. He caught her lips with his and kissed her gently, softly, wanting to have her and no one else; wanting to touch her more than he was now and had, exploring every part of her as he climaxed.

Warrick quickly stepped back into the change room just as Catherine closed her locker and faced him with a smile. He saw the pile of their clothes in the corner near the door and he realized that he needed to get Catherine out of there as quick as possible.

"Ready to go?" she asked, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Yeah."

Sara was too busy trying to catch her breath to hear the sound of the locker room door close noisily or the chatter of their friends that had been in the other room, merely separated by a wall but open still by the doorway that led into the showers. Nick let her down easy, making sure that she could stand up by herself. For a moment she willingly stood there in his arms, relishing in the sensation of his thin lips on her neck, then up to her face.

"I need to get us some towels," he murmured, slowly beginning to withdraw.

Nodding, she folded her arms over her chest, starting to feel the cool air around her as Nick went to scavenge for something to cover her and dry her. Her chestnut hair clung to the back of her neck and around her shoulders but it hardly bothered her not when the muscles of his back were evident. She yearned to knead her fingers in them but found satisfaction with the faint bite mark on his right shoulder.

Nick's torso glistened with sweat mixed with water. The white towel was slung dangerously low around his hips and she adored the tousled look of his hair sticking out in one direction and then in a completely different way the next. Instead of throwing her the fluffy towel like she had expected, he came up to her, practically towering over her, and wrapped the cloth around her form. She noticed that he didn't both to hide his wandering eyes and a blush crept up into her cheeks.

"You want to get going?" he asked softly.

There was no evidence that anyone had been in the change room while they had been enjoying themselves thoroughly in the adjoined room. Nick gathered up their clothing that had ended up neatly tucked up in the corner near the heavy door. They slipped into their clothes in silence, tried to appear more decent than they looked, and then grabbed their belongings out of their lockers before they left.

Nick's fingers were shamelessly entwined with Sara's as they walked down the hallway to the front doors. She ran her fingers through her damp hair and shook it. No one seemed to pay any heed to the couple. They carried on with their business as the front doors closed behind the two CSIs.

"Oh girl, hold on a minute," interjected Warrick as Catherine climbed into the passenger's seat of Warrick's Tahoe. "I forgot to grab my cell out of my locker."

"Okay."

Warrick just missed Nick and Sara walking out of the front doors towards the newly fixed Tahoe belonging to Nick. Catherine however, saw the two holding hands as they leisurely strolled and chatted on the way to his vehicle. There was definitely something between them, she thought, but she wasn't sure if they had had sex yet. She was still pining for that massage from Warrick but that's why she was in his Tahoe now. Catherine was going along with her end of the deal and complied without protests when Warrick offered that night as the time when she would hold up her end of the bargain.

The door of the locker room opened easily under the pressure of his flat hand. He briskly walked to his locker and twisted the lock to the left and then to the right, giving the combination. On the top shelf was his silver cell phone and he shook his head in spite of his forgetfulness. He slammed the door shut and locked it, glancing up from his hand that held his phone. On the bench was a wallet, he observed, being the deft CSI that was, and the undeniable wrapper of a condom.

There was a smirk on his lips as he picked up the wallet that he recognized as Nick's and then tucked the foil wrapper into it. He'd bring it up later, he decided, when Nick could no longer escape the evidence.


	16. Sex on the Beach The Drink

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I do not profit from them, and I did not create them. The quote "particular brand of vodka" is from 'Ocean's Eleven.' They (I forget who) own that too.

**Rating:** PG/ PG-13?

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who cleared up the whole Jorja-George mishap for me. I was confused for a very long time and I wondered what the hell everyone was talking about.

Ah yes, I am glad to see that everyone likes all the "steamy" parts. I try my best in writing something I have very little experience on/in. High school… what more can I say?

I apologize beforehand about making Sara drunk because I had how everyone makes her out to be a chronic drinker. I like to believe she isn't but one thing led to another in the chapter. Oh well!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Sex on the Beach (The Drink)**

There couldn't have been a better excuse for Sara to be able to legally molest Nick in public and to do it to fairly decent music blasting in the background. There was alcohol coursing through her veins as she twisted and moved to the beat of the song. Her arms were above her head as she rolled her hips in a slow seductive pace that complied with the music and teased the hell out of Nick. He was practically dying behind her, his fingers gripping her hips possessively and keeping her tightly to his body. And when the song changed so did the beat along with shake of her behind. Back and forth her hips swayed, challenging the man to keep up with her. It was like sex on the dance floor but a little less voyeuristic and a little less satisfying.

That night there had been so much pent up energy in them both that they for once did not quench between the sheets or in the shower for that matter. It was a different kind of energy but just as sexual and just as lust-filled. They had decided over a light dinner that they should go out for once since they finally had the time. They could get crazy, get drunk, and not get fired. Nick was surprised when Sara had mentioned a club, not thinking her to be the type but he realized that lately she had evolved into a different person, one who was bolder and more confident but still the same old Sara Sidle. So they cleaned up and went their separate ways in preparation for going clubbing, Sara heading straight to the bedroom to gather her things while Nick got ready in the bathroom.

Once he had finished and she had stopped drooling at the sight of him in a black buttoned down shirt that would put even the infamous Warrick Brown to shame, topped off with blue jeans. His hair was slightly long but not in dire need of being trimmed and he had run his fingers through it with gel, tousling it. He looked damned fine, Sara decided after she headed out the door, trying not to fall down the steps as she stared at his backside in overtly tight jeans.

At her apartment, Nick had a longer wait and spent the near hour on the couch, looking bored as he watched a show on the Discovery Channel for the sixth time. Something about birds, Sara noted as she made the transition from bathroom to bedroom, something she didn't care about.

However the wait was worth it when he saw her finally leaning against the doorway of her bedroom, putting on a very pointy shoe known the world as "stilettos" but "sexy" to him. It didn't matter to him much that her feet would kill by the end of the night and apparently Sara was going to have to learn the hard way, having been a person to wear runners most of her life. Her long legs were smooth as silk beneath the dark, loose skirt that she wore. It came to a few inches above her knees and showcased her behind well but she was able to move easily in it and she was pleased that she did not feel like a tramp or like she was exposed. The top that she wore on the other hand was a little less conservative. It was a gold shimmering halter-top that displayed her flawless shoulders and back to everyone. Her hair had body and her lips had a clear gloss. The make-up on her face was tasteful but almost nonexistent.

Leaving her apartment and making it the Tahoe had been a record for Nick for restraint. Once inside the club however, he hadn't been able to take his hands off of her body, clearly not paying attention to the people around them.

At the transformation of the next song, Sara led them off of the crowded floor to the large bar where people sat chatting and drinking, the bartenders making drinks and conversation with ease.

Nick leaned over the bar and shouted to the bartender, "You make '57 T-Birds with Texas License Plates?"

"Honey, I'll make you whatever you like," she smiled flirtatious, already grabbing a shot glass to rest on the counter.

The underlying tone didn't go unnoticed by Sara but she chose to ignore it. She figured that it was her job to be overly friendly with people, get them to buy drinks, even if they were slightly invading territories.

Sara watched as the redhead skillfully poured the Sloe Gin into the little shot glass along with the Dark Rum and more ingredients. The pretty bartender had made enough for a few shots and she lined them up for him as Nick paid for not only his drinks but also Sara's.

"And what can I get you?" asked the other bartender working behind bar. Her eyes met pools of dark blue, such a bold contrast to the warm chestnut she was used to gazing in. His voice was like silk and deep enough to melt any girl into pure, unadulterated lust.

"A Screaming Orgasm," was her modest reply, her voice raised so he could hear her.

He grinned wolfishly at her, a look in his eyes that she was used to seeing in the man beside her and she blushed. It was her favorite drink though, she protested in her mind. Though one could never go wrong with different variations of Martinis.

Apparently, Nick immediately lost any interest that he had had briefly in the redhead when he heard the name of Sara's "particular brand of vodka" and saw the grin plastered across the man's face. Nick's hand possessively settled on her lower back before he knocked back the first of three shots.

There was no wince in her face when she downed the first shot and slammed it back down on the bar. She smiled at Nick beside her and ignored the bartenders before them.

"A Screaming Orgasm?" he wondered, a raising his eyebrow at her.

"It's good."

"I think it's a little better than "good" darlin', if that's its name."

The second shot glass was held between three fingers as she smiled at him before it was slammed back down on the bar top.

"Your turn."

Compliance.

The finished a few minutes later at the bar before moving their way back into the throng of people grinding with each other to the beat of the song blaring from speakers lost in the darkness above. The air reeked of alcohol and sweat, and it was saturated with energy and excitement that could not be found anywhere else.

By the end of the night, Sara and Nick had switched from their usual drinks to shots, rotating from dancing to drinking then dancing again. They didn't leave until the club closed at some godforsaken hour in the early morning and when they did finally stumble out into the parking lot, arms linked and limbs heavy, they knew that neither of them could drive. Sara drunkenly searched for a payphone and the only one she had found, she couldn't use because it was coincidently out of order.

"Nick!" Sara whined, gradually making her way over to him.

"What?" He was leaning against the grill of the navy blue Tahoe with his eyes closed and his arms folded over his chest.

"It doesn't work."

"What doesn't?"

"The payphone," she replied, slurring her words.

It was undeniable that she had consumed more than Nick but not because he was a lightweight, because he wasn't, but because it was her way of forcing herself to forget about work, Grissom, and the world in general.

"Get in," he muttered, rounding the front of the Tahoe to the driver's side.

"You can't drive!"

"I'm not going to."

Reluctantly, she got in the passenger's seat and waited for him to say something or do something. He seemed fine to her, through the slight haze of her vision but what her eyes saw and what was actuality were two different things.

He ungracefully crawled into the backseat of the Tahoe and then plopped down with an unceremonious "oomph."

"What are you doing?" she wondered, turning around to face him.

"I'm going to go to sleep."

"In the backseat?"

"Where else?"

Sara unsuccessfully tried to get in the backseat with him. She ended up tripping over her own feet and landing straight on top of him, arms flying.

"Damn Sidle," he groaned, rubbing the side of his head where her fist had hit him.

"I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said as she scooted down so then when she lay on top of him her heat rested on his chest.

His fingers ran through her hair, twirling the ends in between his fingertips and she fell asleep to the gentle sound of his breathing and the feeling of a warm man beneath her.

The sound of a jackhammer across the street woke her up along with the internal pounding of her head. She slowly sat up, realizing that she was a straddling a practically unconscious Nick, and rubbed her temples with two fingers. Why did there have to be a construction site across from the parking lot of the bar? she wondered. Sara was surprised that she had remembered where she was. Yes, she was in the backseat of the Tahoe with Nick after too many shots and now head one of the biggest hangovers in her life.

All she wanted to do was to get home and wash herself. She felt dirty and the truck smelt like smoke and booze from the club. The make-up that she had put so little on was smeared and her hair was a mess on top of her head. Sleeping in a truck was definitely not a good place to sleep, she noted, adjusting her shirt after noticing that she was practically falling out of it.

A few minutes later, Nick finally woke up when moving dump trucks followed the jackhammer and the dryness of his throat burned. He swallowed painfully and attempted to sit up before feeling a rush to pain straight to his head that caused him to clutch it and moan as he lay back down.

"Hangover," murmured Sara though her voice sounded louder in her ears, a like her voice was sandpaper.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"We should get home, Nick."

There was a moment's pause as he gradually opened his eyes several times before adjusting to the light. She was still perched on top of him, wearing clothes from yesterday and looking like she was about to drop dead from sleep deprivation.

"Sar, do you think you can drive?"

"Yeah. Gimme your keys."

"I don't know where they are."

Sara reached in between her thighs and found one of Nick's pockets. She slipped her hand in but didn't feel cool metal until she reached into the next. Carefully, she pulled out his keys and then gently stroked the side of his face with her free hand, loving the feel of rough stubble beneath her fingertips.

"Sleep. I'll tell you when we get home."

As she cautiously climbed into the front seat of the car, she contemplated whether she should go to Nick's or her house. Nick had clothes that she could wear and products that she could use at his place but Sara barely had anything for him.

She reached for the sunglasses above her that she knew Nick kept there and put them on her face, grateful for the shield against the menacing rays of the sun.

By the time Sara finally pulled in front of his place, Nick was sitting up and already berating himself for drinking too much. He hadn't had a hangover in years, many years, and was ultimately glad that he didn't have to go to work. He was out of the truck before Sara to help her to his front door. They could both walk fine and the pounding their heads was slowly beginning to fade as she turned the key in the lock of the front door and let them in.

The lights were forsaken once the door was closed and locked. His bedroom was dark, hidden from the light of day, and they collapsed onto his bed in a desperate attempt to be eluded by sleep and to get rid of the numbing pain in their heads.

**A/N:** - blank facial expression-


	17. Something More Than a Massage

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them, didn't make them, don't profit from them.

**Rating:** Crank it.

**A/N:** Thank you for all of the reviews!

Jacinda: "I can think of better things to do in the backseat of a Denali." I'm not going to lie to you, it crossed my mind and then I was like: "In a drunken haze? Uh… no." Next time. I promise.

I Want George: Honey, I need a shorter name for you. That is _long_. Wow, am I ever lazy! Anywho, back to my original comment. All right, I am _seriously_ thinking of writing a chapter story that basically has no plot, kind of like 'Quarantine', but there would be sex in every chapter. It would be just for you. Sex. Lots of it. Yes, I am in high school… grade 10 actually. Shocking? Everyone feign shock.

Dedicated to Julie: you asked about Yobling. Here it is.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Something More Than a Message**

The lab had been rather quite the first couple of days that Nick and Sara had been gone. There was a visible tension in Grissom that all of the CSIs observed but did not dare comment on. Even Catherine had refrained from prodding into her boss's love life when she remembered that he had went on a date with the lovely Lady Heather. It was gnawing at her to ask but she pushed the urge aside and mulled over how desirable Warrick looked that particular evening in a tight t-shirt that hugged his arms and chest. The shirt was a nice contrast to his usual buttoned down dress shirts, not that she minded staring at his chest as he spoke.

There was an audible sigh made from Gil Grissom's general direction as he annoyingly tapped his fingers on the surface of the table, waiting for something. They had no cases to work, no one had decided to commit murder that night or randomly drop dead. It was definitely a very uneventful night and everyone in the lab was bored as hell.

"This is the slowest night _ever_," whined Greg, pouting into his mug as he sipped at its contents.

"There's no need to draw attention to it, Greggo," mumbled their boss, staring off distantly at the ground. "If nothing comes in within two hours, you're all free to leave. But be warned that you're on call until dayshift comes on."

Without another word said, Grissom stood quietly and left the break room.

"Either the date didn't go well or he's stressing about Nick and Sara," pointed out the lab tech, shattering the hovering silence that plagued them.

"I'd bet on Nick and Sara."

"You'd bet on anything," remarked Catherine, lifting her gaze from the red of her nails to the blue-green of his eyes.

"Only if I was sure on it."

"Just like you were sure about our coworkers?"

"Yes but I suppose I owe you now."

She smirked vixen-like while Greg's incredulous and questioning gaze flickered from the tall, handsome leaning against the counter to the smug woman in a chair at the table.

"Care to share?"

"Not really," she smiled.

There was a brief pause that clung to the air of the break room but none of the seemed to mind this time. Catherine sat comfortably in her chair as she gazed at her newly painted nails, nails that she was dying to rake down Warrick's toned back. And as she sat there lingering over her fingertips, Warrick watched her with hungry, predatory eyes. What he would give, or pay for that matter, to consume her whole and have her writhing underneath him in his bed. However Greg was completely oblivious to the entire exchange between the two coworkers. He stood there next to Warrick, staring up at the ceiling in thought, thinking about buying Marilyn Manson's new CD and what it would sound like blasting from the speakers of his CD player in the lab. Lost in memories, he smiled when he recalled the time he wore a latex glove on top of his head, a mask with sticker-mouth-of-fangs on it and danced in his chair to the music of Marilyn. A sigh filled the air as he smiled small at the recollection. Those were the days before he had been banned from doing such things ever again. It was a slow night, he thought. There was no work to be done. Who was really going to mind?

"I'll see you guys later," announced Greg, briskly departing in search for latex gloves and anything else that he could adorn on his face and head.

"So girl, when am I getting my massage?" inquired Warrick, folding his arms over his chest as he smirked longingly at her.

"Here I thought we agreed that _you_ owed _me_ a massage," she countered lightly, her painted lips in the form of a smile.

"How about we give each other a massage?"

"Simultaneously?" she questioned, her fine eyebrow raised.

"Now that is up to you."

"Think you can wait another," Catherine paused as she turned over his wrist to glance at the time, "hour and forty-seven minutes?"

"I've been waiting for a few years, Cath. I don't think an hour and a bit is gonna kill me," he replied smoothly.

"We've only had the bet for a few weeks," she stated, easing out of her chair, understanding completely what he was getting at. "Don't worry, Rick. I'm worth the wait."

He watched as her hips swayed in way that only a female could do when she was teasing a man.

"Damn," he breathed out, admiring her ass in denim.

The word was quiet but she heard it just as she was through the doorway and flashed a sexy grin over her bare shoulder, holding his gaze for a moment then melting when he winked at her. It was tempting to run straight back into the break room and take him on the table but Catherine kept strutting her way to the ladies room, trying to waste some time by reapplying her make-up.

Once Catherine was done with her lipstick and everything else, she packed it all back into her black leather purse and made her way out of the bathroom, into the a dull hum of music that filled the hallway. She frowned and tried to make out the lyrics but could not. With a trained ear, she followed the music and it gradually increased in volume and coherency. It wasn't until she was three-quarters of the way to where Greg could always be found, that she realized he was playing Marilyn Manson again, and sparing no one of the pleasure of listening to lyrics.

A memorable time was one she had heard from Nick when the lab tech was in his swivel chair processing who knows what, with a latex glove atop his blonde head, a mask over his mouth and some sort of sticker fangs stuck on. As she rounded the corner, she was wondering what kind of story she would be telling Nick when he got back.

Sure enough there was one Greg Sanders doing an extremely back impression of an air guitar in the middle of the DNA lab, his arms free of hitting anything worth getting him fired over. The latex glove had returned but the mask was nowhere to be seen. Instead there was fluorescent orange "ear muffs" over his ear, clashing with the glove. She recognized the ear protectors as the ones they wore in the ballistics lab and Catherine wondered if Bobby D. would be looking for them soon.

She stood in the doorway, her arms folded over her chest and a smile of amusement across her face. It was entertaining to see him make such an idiot of himself yet that's what she liked so much about him. Over the music, she barely heard the chuckle from behind her. Instead, she felt the instant heat from a body behind her and the presence of someone towering over her. Warrick's hand rested on the small of her back in a friendly gesture. He must have done it a thousand times but somehow it sent her mind wandering, thinking of things that her secret, and sometimes not so secret, dirty mind conjured up.

"Think we should tell him to turn it down before Grissom comes?" Warrick asked in her ear, his warm breath blanketing her skin.

"Too late," she remarked, seeing Grissom through the glass rounding the corner.

The three of them stood there until Greg thought the song had ended but really it was his boss pressing the power button. In mid motion of strumming his "guitar", Greg glanced up and smiled innocently at the not so amused man before him.

"What did I tell you Greg?"

"To only use latex gloves for their proper use."

"And?"

"That Marilyn Manson and science having nothing in common so therefore he should not be in the lab."

"Exactly. And what don't you understand about that?"

"Come on, Boss. It's a slow night. Nobody's working!" Greg finally broke down a whined, the CSIs chuckling behind their boss at the young lab tech.

"Maybe the three of you aren't working but some of us have things to catch up on."

"Forensics Journals don't count!" Greg shouted at the back of Grissom, who was already halfway down the hall.

"Busted," said Warrick, grinning at the his friend.

"You could have warned me, you know."

"Like you didn't know what was going to happen," said Catherine, beginning to turn around.

When she did make a full spin on her heel, she was face to face with a very muscular chest. Her eyes eventually made their way up to Warrick's smiling face.

"Like what you see?" he murmured softly so only she could hear.

"I like what's underneath a whole lot more," she whispered.

"Our two hours are almost up," Warrick pointed out casually, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He was so close to her that his hands in his pockets were touching her hips softly.

"What are you saying, Warrick?"

"Lately I've been having this kink in my neck," he stated, arching his neck from side to side. "Not to mention I have this ache in my lower back."

"Are you sure it's not somewhere else?"

Catherine had said it so softly that she doubted he heard her but Warrick heard all right. Warrick heard and fell hard. He didn't believe her words even though he knew that she was not the modest type.

"Would you like to find out?" he finally stumbled out, his usually suave mind clever but at the moment it was working on overdrive with all of the images of Catherine. Ones that involved her nothing else but the skin she was born with or maybe a little lace outfit the left little to the imagination.

"Why don't you show me after shift's done?"

"Before or after my massage?" he grinned slightly, gazing down into her crystal blue eyes filled with lust.

"How about during?"

"Sounds good."

"Be a good boy in the meantime," she stated, patting his chest as she slipped past him.

Warrick wasn't quite sure what she meant by that last comment but he was definitely sure that he would be very bad once they were outside of the confining walls of the lab and inside his bed.


	18. So You Say This Stuff Is Edible?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own them, I did not create them, and I do not profit from them.

**Rating:** Crank the A/C.

**A/N:** Awesomepossum: Never mind the "love" thing… big mishap. Yeah, I know "the title." –Sighs – Oh well. As for the Canadian portrayal, yeah. What can you do about it?

Brainfear: "hubba hubba" Yeah, I like to think so too.

Camilla: Vixen. That's a new one that I could definitely get used to. : D And I'm going to partially dedicate this chapter to you, besides all the Yobling fans, because of this "Gimme –bats eyelashes –" So cute.

KCC: YES! You are the first person to notice that… or at least the first to tell me that you noticed it. I assure you, it was intentional. I like having a commonality among my chapter titles, like 'ation.'

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**Chapter Eighteen: So You Say This Stuff Is Edible?**

"Strawberry, cherry, and raspberry," chuckled Warrick, gazing down at the little bottles of massage oil in his hands.

They had stopped by Catherine's for her to get a few things and when she returned to the car with a smirk on her face, a bag in hand, he didn't say anything. He drove to his place without questioning her smug grin for he knew that he would find out later. She told him to wait in the bedroom for her when they arrived and he did as was told while he slipped off his jacket.

Catherine had disappeared into the bathroom, her bag in hand and a questionable smirk on her lips. And while she did whatever it was she was doing, Warrick sat on the edge of his bed with three bottles of edible massage oil that she had given him as she ordered him to his room.

The door eased open soundly and a figure slipped into the darkness of his room. The light from the lamp on the beside table traveled up the dark blue of his wall and provided a dim, soft glow to the place.

Satin. Black satin. It was the only material on her body besides something a deep red that was peaking out of the plunging neckline. Her robe came to her ankles withy a tie wrapped loosely around her waist. He swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of her. Slowly and seductively, she undid the tie and began to gently allow the satin to slide off of her shoulders.

"Have you decided yet?"

"Excuse me?" he drawled out, eyes flickering unhurriedly from head to toe.

"The flavor."

The robe hit the floor and so did his jaw.

"No, not yet."

Red silk in the form of a bra encased her breasts and she wore a matching pair of underwear that left little to Warrick's imagination. Her hair was loose around her bare shoulders and her skin positively glowed. His ravenous eyes raked down her toned stomach to her equally toned legs.

"I recommend the strawberry," she purred, gradually making her way towards him.

"Girl, you're something else."

He allowed her to take two bottles out of his grasp and her hands went for the hem of his shirt next. Once the garment was lost somewhere behind her, she explained, "It gets messy."

"Then my pants have got to go too," he responded, standing up.

As he stood there invading her space and towering over her, he unfastened his belt before unzipping his jeans. She watched his pants pool at his feet and then they were kicked off, forsaken. The bottle was still clutched in his hand and he gazed from it to her, an eyebrow raised.

"Get on the bed."

"Dominant," she smiled as she lay down on her stomach. "I like it."

He sat astride her on the back of her thighs while he brushed the blonde tresses around her shoulders. The clasp of her bra gave effortlessly with the persuasion of his skillful fingers.

"Wouldn't want to get it messy," he murmured into her ear, reiterating her choice of words. She arched her back to remove it and he snuck a peak of the side of her full breast while she flung her bra aside.

The feeling of his deft hands smoothing the warm oil across her back sent heat coursing through her entire body. Her eyes closed as he kneaded her shoulders with just the right amount of pressure. If she wasn't looking forward to hopefully returning the favor of a massage, she could have fallen asleep there. Her body instantly became at ease and the week's tension began to flow out of her in waves.

"You said this stuff is edible?" he wondered casually, his hands working her hips and the small of her back.

"So the bottle says," she murmured drowsily.

A gasp filled the air when his teeth sank into the side of her neck, hardly sparing her the slight pain of his bite. His tongue smoothed over the curve where her neck met her shoulder as his hands massaged her hips. The massage oil definitely tasted like strawberries but he would have preferred to taste Catherine than it.

"I'm about to ruin your sheets," she announced softly and matter-of-factly.

"Hmm?"

She rolled onto her back and laughed lightly at the sight of his eyes going wide, focusing primarily on her chest. He unconsciously licked his lips and then forced himself to meet her eyes, swallowing the urge to rip off the remainder of her clothes and fuck her senseless until his headboard made a hole in the wall.

"Close your mouth," she said with a grin, reaching up to do the work for him.

His hand caught her by the wrist and he took two of her fingers in his warm mouth, nipping gently at the tips. A moment later he released them and tried to not make it painfully obvious that he was hard as rock, pressing against her thigh.

"You're not done," she stated, desperately wanting him to continue to massage her body.

"I know I'm not."

Instantly his hands fell to her breasts, rolling a nipple between two fingers while she made not effort to suppress her hips arching up. She groaned at the loss of contact when he moved back to draw her legs out from underneath them, bringing them up to rest on either side of his hips. He was cradled perfectly in between her thighs and he immediately felt like he was home. This time when he touched her, he was softer and more teasing than he had been before. His hands glided more oil up her thighs and over her stomach as he bent over her to flick his tongue inside her bellybutton.

Catherine didn't know how long she was going to be able to stand his lingering caresses. She wanted him to be rougher and harder like she was used to, but he knew that of course. He knew exactly what she wanted and despite the fact that he wanted it too, he was going to have her pleading before he made a move to join their bodies.

A nipple was caught in between his teeth and he tugged back gently before taking the whole of it in his mouth, sucking and licking. Her hips were arching against his pelvis and several times he had stopped her when she began to bring a pace in her hips. Strawberry oil was slicked over her collarbone and his mouth moved there next to nipple and taste. This time when she grinded into him, he didn't stop her but encouraged her by holding her to his body, his hand underneath them both on her behind.

Almost half of the little bottle was gone now and Catherine was sticky as hell between Warrick's mouth and the oil. He sat up a little more to reach out and place the massage oil on the bedside table. This movement pressed his erection against her harder than she had been forcing. Something between a moan and whimper filled his ear, his cheek next to hers as he began to resume his former position. She told him silently to stay where he was by wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and her hands grasping his well-muscled back. He turned to look at her and realized that their lips nearly met. A gentle slide of his thick lips across hers drove her crazy and she broke her restraint a moment later by quickly holding his head in place with her hand on the back of his neck, urging his mouth to stay fused to hers. The kiss started off to be slow and deep with precision but she pushed him onward, sliding her tongue across his and kissing him harder, faster. Several dizzying moments later, Warrick withdrew, panting down on her chest, his head bent.

"Damn girl," he breathed out.

She chuckled and pushed at his shoulders. Before he knew it he was flat on his back with a very naked and a very aroused Catherine on top of him. She straddled his lap and smiled triumphantly when he groaned at the pleasurable pressure applied to his groin.

"Your turn," she grinned, reaching forward to grab any bottle that she could grasp. "Raspberry?"

"You're the one eating it," he replied cheekily, a twisted smile on his face.

The oil warmed in her hands as she rubbed them together before smothered his skin with the honey-like substance. The air smelt of raspberry mixed with strawberry and she he breathed it in deeply, trying to steady himself while she touched him. His chest was hard and although she had seen it many times before it looked so much better underneath her. Her teeth nipped at his jaw, her hands running up his chest and over his shoulders to slowly make their way down his muscled arms. Her nails bit into his skin in time with her teeth on his lower lip. Once more, her mouth devoured his rendering him speechless as well as breathless. There was so much hunger in her for him that she refused to suppress. She needed to get the pent up sexual tension out of her system though she knew it would only return when they got back to work.

Catherine sat back on her heels and pulled him up so he sat up straight. She enveloped his waist with her legs, her ankles hooking together behind his back and her hands traveled from the waistband of his boxer briefs to his shoulder blades. Her breasts were pressed tightly to his chest when he wrapped his arms around her, his hands flat on her back. Her cheek rested against his allowing him perfect access to her ear and throat. She moaned soundly after his tongue traced the outline of her ear and pulled on the lobe not so gently.

Raspberry massage oil covered his back while Warrick kissed her throat and beneath her jaw line, tugging lightly at the skin. It would leave a mark, yes, but neither of them seemed remotely worried about it. He released a low growl deep in his throat when she grinded her pelvis down on his, hard. His thrust up against the barrier of her damp silk panties evoked her to leave long, red lines down his back from her nails.

"Jesus," he groaned. "Catherine, I don't think I can wait any longer."

In one hand he had a fistful of her blonde hair, right at the base of her hairline, and in the other he had her full breast. His thumb rubbed the hard nipple while his lips found hers easily.

"Then don't," she murmured against his lips.

In one fluid and swift movement, Catherine was beneath him while he hastily removed her underwear. Two fingers drove into her wet heat and she tensed in pleasure, moaning. He moved with the thrust of his fingers into her and she gripped at his hair to bring his mouth down on hers. His slightly long nail that he had on his thumb scraped over the little bundle of sensitive nerve endings and she nearly came at the pleasure of it.

But he needed two hands to remove his shorts and she watched eagerly as he did so. He was about to finish what he had started but she abruptly sat up, grabbing the bottle of massage oil, and put a little in her hand. He watched carefully, his brow in a frown, until his expression completely eased when her hand smoothed the oil over his erection. His forehead rested on her shoulder, his breath falling down on her chest, while her skillful hand covered every inch of his manhood in raspberry. In one hand she gripped his the base of his penis and in the other his heavy testicles. The pace she set was slow at first and she made a rather unmanly whimper at her teasing nature. Her teeth nibbled on his ear while her thumb circled his tip, giving a very gentle scrape to the underside of the head.

"Catherine," he moaned, loving it when she opted for a quicker, more relieving speed of her hand.

"Where are they?" she whispered into his hair.

"Top drawer," was his husky reply.

She parted him for only a moment, retrieving a square package from the drawer. She was on her knees as he sat there, his legs slightly folded, when she tore the foil with her teeth and rolled the latex over him.

He persuaded her to lie down and he brought her left leg up and over his shoulder while his chest almost pressed against hers. His eyes were gazing into hers and he kissed her tender lips softly this time with affection.

The first plunge into her elicited a carnal moan from both of them simultaneously. He stayed still for a moment, trying to steady his quickened breath and try to keeping from coming right away. He wanted her to be screaming his name underneath him and he wanted to watch her climax, not be spent right away. He was agonizingly slow but deep and she bit her bottom lip, closing her eyes.

"Harder," Catherine groaned.

The feeling of him inside of her was definitely something she needed to savor but right then she knew that she could not take things slow. Next time, she would savor every inch of him and memorize all characteristics of his skin. Her hips arched up to encourage him and he thrust harder, deeper like she had asked. A sigh teased his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine.

Even then as he moved faster than he had initially started, he still kept a firm leash on the urge to screw her senseless. She wasn't nearly as aroused as he was, though still completely aroused. But she wasn't making it any easier for him to allow her to catch up. Catherine continued to drive her hips up, meeting his movements and sending him deeper inside of her.

"Warrick, don't hold back."

So she did know that he was holding back and he was sure that she was doing the same. He didn't want to hurt her though the fact that she was far from a virgin was apparent, but he didn't want to overwhelm her as well.

He glanced into her crystal blue eyes, seeing her hunger as a reflection of his. That was all it took to convince him to let go and he did. He slammed his hips firmly into hers and she cried out, loving the new aggression in his pace. The callousness of him was bringing her closer to the edge. She was surprised that anyone could move that fast or get that deep inside her. Once they were done, she knew that she was going to hurt from the rough sex but she didn't mind at all. It would be the first time in a very long time that someone had fucked her so hard that it hurt to walk.

"Faster!" she cried, clinging to his back with her nails after laying a few more fresh strips down his muscles.

Compliance.

His pace faltered a bit when he almost came but he shuddered and kept moving in and out of her quickly. He fit so perfectly inside of her body that he never wanted to leave it. Driving into her again and again only made him want to stay where he was.

"Warrick!" she called, his name practically screamed on the first waves of her orgasm. She moaned and clenched around him causing him to break his speed. Her teeth bit into his shoulder to muffle her cry as she climaxed, gripping his back and clenching him inside of her.

It took only a few more hard thrusts to have him coming inside of her and groaning loud enough that if he had neighbors, they would hear. He panted heavily onto her neck, riding out the last moments of both of their orgasms. She finished him off completely, as well as herself, by thrusting up into him twice before collapsing back down on the bed.

He rolled off of her, not wanting to smother her to death by lying on top of her. He pulled her to his side and listened as her breath eventually evened out. Fingertips danced leisurely on his chest and he watched the red nails scratch him gently.

"That was the best massage I have ever had," he mumbled, kissing the top of her head.

He could feel her smile against his chest where her head lay.

"I bet you I can do better," she challenged, looking up into his eyes.

"Already?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm always ready. Are you?"

"Bring it."


	19. Satisfied?

**Disclaimer:** None of it's mine despite the fact that I believe George is.

**Rating:** Snickers fans beware and have your A/C ready.

**A/N:** Thank y'all for the reviews!

Krys: What the hell is a 'BEG'? Quote: "fans self with a BEG"

Ebabe: Aw, darling, I hope you feel better!

IWantGeorge: Your request for "hawwt sex" is about to be fulfilled. Now, you must do something for me: WHAT IS YOUR NAME! I'm sorry, it's been officially bothering me forever because I am so lazy and despise writing it out all the time… no offense. The same thing went for forensicsfan.

**Dedications:** I apparently do 'dedications' now. Anywho, this is dedicated to every reviewer who reviewed chapter 18 since I think _everyone_ was like "okay, now what about Nick and Sara?" This is also dedicated to everyone who reads this smut.

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**Chapter Nineteen: Satisfied?**

"Uh uh, leave it," protested Sara as she lazily strolled into Nick's bathroom.

His face was covered in white shaving cream and he was about to take the first stroke at his cheek with the razor when her voice halted him. His eyes followed her curiously in the mirror as her feet made little sounds on the floor.

"What?"

"Wash it off."

"Why?"

"I like stubble," she replied honestly yet in a small voice with a timid smile.

Nick snorted softly and then let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, all right."

With her arms folded over her oversized t-shirt clad chest, Sara admired the view a few feet from where she stood behind the bent over form of one Nick Stokes. That ass in those boxer briefs had her going, along with his well-muscled back not to mention the rest of him.

Once he was finished he turned around and faced her, toweling off his damp face.

"Satisfied?"

"Not quite," she murmured, closing in on him until she had him pressed against the lip of the sink.

Her gaze trailed her hands running leisurely up from the waistband of his shorts to his chest and then over his shoulders. Her smile was sweet and calm as he wrapped his arms loosely around her, his hands settling low on the small of her back.

"Didn't get enough of me this mornin'?" he drawled out, grinning arrogantly down at her.

"Mmm, Nick, I can never get enough of you," she said on a sigh as his hand began to massage her lower back.

Sara was about to allow her hand to venture down in between them but he surprised her by hitching her legs up around his waist as he began to head out of the bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

"For once, Sar, I would like to take you in my bed," he responded honestly, ungracefully giving the door to his room a hard push with his foot.

"But you did already this morning," she lightly protested.

"Actually, I believe you did."

The sight of her lying in the middle of his bed, with her arms and legs spread out, made him smile softly. It was undeniable that she belonged there and she knew it too. The sheets were a mess along with the pillows scattered amongst the king-size bed but he didn't mind, not when he had Sara Sidle sleeping with him during his resting hours.

"Nick…"

"Be quiet Sara."

The bluntness of his words caused her to pout but they were soon forgotten when his mouth came crushing down on hers in a fierce, carnal play of lips that rendered her breathless and wondering where the hell the man learned to kiss like that. His body was heavy and hard, pressing her into the depths of his unmade bed while his mouth remained fused to hers. She knew that he could kiss like this, making her body liquefy and turning her thoughts into anything but innocent, but each time left her stunned.

With the far too large shirt still on her body, Nick's greedy fingers sought purchase underneath the cloth that separated them. Her skin was smooth and warm beneath his touch but he knew all of this. He had memorized the feeling of her flesh, the curves of her figure and every little freckle, many times before. There was a need in him that yearned to take her hard and fast, sparing neither of them pleasure but only time, but there was also something inside of him that wanted to take things slow, take his time tasting her lips over and over again. Nick was torn between the two and determined to ride it out, ultimately letting both of their bodies to decide what they wanted.

"You are such a tease," she mumbled against his neck when his fingers skimmed across the underside of her breast and then trailed back down to her stomach.

He chuckled smartly before eliciting a throaty groan from her when his hand swiftly reached up and grabbed a fair handful of her breast. Things were definitely leading to the rough sex than the slow sex, Nick noted when her hips angled perfectly up against his. He would undoubtedly be fine with it and something told him that Sara would be too.

Just then, Nick heard the phone ring from the kitchen and groaned into the side of her neck. Perfect timing, he thought sardonically in his mind. Her hand had managed to travel from the back of his neck to the waistband of his shorts and _now _the phone rang.

"You have an answering machine," she pointed out, looking up into his eyes while she watched his gaze flicker from her swollen lips to her shirt practically over her head and then to her eyes.

"And you have a point."

Thank God for technology, was all he thought before her delicate long fingers slipped past the elastic of his waistband and around the base of his hard-on. His breath came out in a long hiss, provoking Sara to smile triumphantly and grip him tighter as she stroked up the length of him.

There wasn't much need for the shirt that she still adorned and as much as Nick hated to lose the sensation of her hand wrapped around him, he desperately had to have her as naked as humanly possible. His mouth immediately fell on her breast, nibbling along the curve of it before taking her nipple into his mouth, giving a good hard suck. Her fingers slipped into his shortly cropped hair, urging his head to stay fastened to her chest. With a wondrous tongue that was beginning to be put into question along with his talent of kissing, Nick moved to her other breast while cupping the first.

And so the phone proceeded to ring again, making him growl low in his throat and Sara to moan soundly as the vibrations transferred from his mouth to her nipple in between his gentle teeth.

"Someone is persistent," she stated lightly, rolling her eyes at the person who could not accept the fact that Nick was a little busy at the moment.

"I'll show you persistent," he muttered, gripping her hips and bringing them flush with his own, giving a quick thrust against her.

Her face displayed slight shock but more than anything, utter arousal. He rolled his hips in a not so teasing fashion and savored the heat that he could feel emanating from her core. If he slipped his fingers past the barrier of her underwear, he knew he would be consumed by humidity and nothing stopped him from doing so.

A moan tumbled off of her tender lips and into his ear as he suckled her neck and shoulders, his thumb rubbing her deftly. Her hips met the movements of his fingers but she yearned for the erection that was pressing blatantly against the inside of her thigh.

"Now Nick," she pleaded on a moan.

It didn't take much else to convince him that he had to be inside of her, claiming her entirely with his body as well as his mouth. His boxers were forsaken and he practically ripped off her panties that were damp from her excitement.

His mind was clouded with lust as she captured his lips with her own, her nails digging into the muscles of his back. His tongue slipped past her lips, parting them easily and sought for her to stroke. It was his turn to moan into her mouth when her teeth nibbled lightly on his bottom lip while she maintained the contact of their lips.

Her breath hitched when the head of his penis slid inside of her and she spread her legs wider apart to drape loosely around his waist, hooking at the ankles at the base of his spine.

"Fuck me Nicky," she murmured, her voice filled with lust but also a slight timidity that he was not used to hearing in her tone.

And as the full of him eased inside of her, her body completely sheathing him, they made carnal noises simultaneously. His first plunge inside of her when he had withdrawn felt slightly different than what she was used to.

"Nick!" she exclaimed.

His eyes flashed up to hers when he realized that there was no pleasure in her voice but wholly shock and fear.

"What –"

"We forgot a condom!" she cried, trying to get as far a way from him as he could but finding it harder and slightly more painful than she would have hoped.

A low hiss was created in her throat when he tore away from her and he apologized with his eyes. He had been entirely caught up in the feeling of her body writhing and moaning beneath him that he had forgotten to use protection. His hand searched for the box he kept in his bottom drawer and he recovered the little foil package that was causing them so much grief.

The fact that he had almost lost himself in her had she not screamed at him to stop indirectly, he would have fucked her senseless and ultimately gotten her pregnant. The thought ripped through him as he fumbled with the tearing the pesky thing open and until she gently took it from him, opening it easily, he hadn't realized that he was slightly shaking.

"Nick, are you okay?" she whispered, getting on her knees before him, mirroring his position on the bed.

"I'm fine," was his husky and somewhat hoarse reply.

Her hand cupped his cheek and her eyes bore into him with question yet compassion.

"Baby, it's okay."

"No, Sar, it's not. I could have completely changed our future if you hadn't stopped me."

"It was just as much my fault as it was yours," she stated sternly, hardly believing that he was making such a large deal of it.

It wasn't the first time that either of them had almost forgotten a condom though that time before he hadn't been inside of her before she realized it. Her lips pressed affectionately to his and although it was chaste he could feel how loving it was.

"But you don't understand, I –"

"Nick, I don't have to understand. We were both a little caught up and there's nothing wrong with that." She cut off what ever he was going to say again. "Now don't leave me when I'm this horny." Her voice was a soft purr and he smirked faintly at her choice of words.

"Dirty mouth, Sidle," he chastised while she slipped the condom over him.

"You want to see a dirty mouth?" she responded, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Do I," he drawled, the pitch of his voice nearly hitting falsetto when she took him as far as she could in her mouth.

Her tongue stroked the underside of the head of his penis while her lips remained wrapped around him. The heat of her mouth was almost as hot as the heat in between her legs and he preferred the latter.

"I want to come inside you, not inside your mouth," he stated brazenly.

Apparently they had no shame in Texas.

He eased her mouth off of him and she pouted falsely at him, sticking out her bottom lip that she loved so much.

"Hence the latex," she countered, snapping the edge of the condom at the near base of his penis.

The wince that crossed his face was visible but not one of entire extreme discomfort or pain.

"Sorry," she whispered, kissing his lips softly.

He swiftly brought her legs out from underneath her and he kneeled in between her legs, gazing down at the smile on her face that soon twisted when he brought her pelvis to his. The initial dive into her was fierce and highly anticipated but the position that they were in was a little awkward with him kneeling and her lying flat on her back. Quickly thinking, Nick grabbed a pillow from behind Sara's head and put it underneath her behind after giving it a few firm squeezes. The pillow lifted her hips and instantly made everything a hell of a lot simpler. Not to mention that she found the angle perfect.

The sensation of him embedded to the hilt inside of her, melted her body into a pool of liquid lust. She groaned and practically lied there while he worked her, doing far better than needed for the both of them. When she could muster it, she lifted her hips to meet his, sending him deeper. But her mind kept going blank with the skillful rocking of his pelvis and his dominating tongue on her bellybutton. It was about as far as he could bend while still in her but she didn't mind, not when he could work wonders with flicking his tongue and circling it around her bellybutton.

The tension was mounting and every few thrusts he broke his pace but she hardly minded. Her body was tingling everywhere and there was something tightening in her belly that was bound to uncoil any moment now. Both of their breaths were labored and a faint sheen of sweat covered his impressive chest. He gripped the underside of thighs harder and groaned soundly when she clenched her muscles around him. It was the beginning of her orgasm and he could also feel himself about to explode.

What did him in was a shimmy of her hips when the pillow was no longer beneath her bottom. The shimmy was an attempt to move on top of the pillow but what it really did was shatter Nick's world, his body nearly splintering into little pieces. His manly cry flooded her ears and as overwhelmed as he was by his own release, he needed to bring her to her impending orgasm. The last few thrusts were hard and deep as he slowly withdrew out of her. He withdrew until only the tip of his penis was in her and then plunged abruptly back where he had been, feeling her body spasm harder as he did this a couple of times. Finally she cried out and clamped together all over him, her orgasm hitting her like a ton of bricks. White light flashed before her eyes and her body felt as if it had exploded but in a delightful way. There was no more tension in her tummy but an all around feeling of relief and satisfaction throughout her body.

Slowly, their breathing became normal and she slid the pillow out from under her, bringing her lower body back down to the comfortable bed. He still knelt between her legs but he had braced himself on either side of her hips, now on all fours. His breath fell on her stomach, tickling her and she moved uncomfortably.

"What?"

"That tickles," she said quietly, scratching hard at her stomach to rid of the lingering sensation of his breath. The rough touch did it but it didn't matter much when he collapsed onto his back and brought her practically on top of him.

Several minutes later of lying there with Sara on top of him, Nick broke the silence. "Satisfied?"

There was a playful grin, bearing teeth and exposing hidden plans in her eyes. Her hand dipped low beneath the duvet over top of them and to his growing erection in between his legs.

"Not quite."

They had one week off and they had managed to spend three days in Nick's apartment, hardly getting out of bed because of the much-needed sleep and the fact that they could not keep their hands off of one another.

Sara found Nick making what appeared to be breakfast and the clock on the stove confirmed it. She came up behind him and dropped kisses along his neck and shoulders.

"You've got to stop wearing no shirt," she mumbled, her hands resting gently on his shoulders.

"Am I distracting you, Sara?"

"A little," was her honest reply. She stole away from him and took out plates for the pancakes that he had made them. The two glass plates rested beside the stove and in the corner she leaned back against the edge of the counter where he was, facing him.

"So what are we going to do for the next couple of days?"

"Well you seem pretty content with just laying in bed and having me cook for you."

"You make good food," she remarked timidly, folding her arms over her chest.

"And?"

"You're good in bed so why would I leave it?"

He met her eyes as he flipped a perfectly round pancake with the rubber spatula. "I guess I can't argue with that."

She swatted him lightly on the arm and let out a quiet sigh.

"And it won't be a couple of days," he said, settling two homemade pancakes on each plate before bringing them to the table.

She finally understood what he was saying.

"It was Grissom who called the second time. He said that he has decided that the week suspension was a bit of a joke, though those weren't his _exact_ words, and the lab really needs us."

"In other words, he still thinks that the week suspension is legit and we're only back because everyone is pulling triples not because he thinks we should be."

"Exactly."

"When do we return?"

"Tonight."

"What! I can't even enjoy one more night with you?" she whined ungracefully as she sat down at the table beside him.

"Apparently, Grissom didn't take your raging libido into consideration."

That induced a swift and painful punch to the arm.

"That one hurt."

"Suck it up, Texan," she muttered darkly, cutting at the syrup-drenched pancakes with hostility.

"Poor pancakes," he observed, staring down at her plate.

"You know, just because this is a butter knife doesn't mean it can't be used for other means. Like, say, removing your testicles."

"I like them where they are just fine," he smiled through a mouthful of pancake. "And I think you like them where they are too."

She chuckled down at her drowning and dismembered breakfast, starting to actually feel sorry for the food before her if her logic hadn't kicked in to remind her that the food, although biotic, could not feel the knife ripping through it.

"We're not going to last at all at work," she stated, finishing off her first and moving onto her second pancake.

"What do you mean?" he asked, sitting down after getting seconds.

"This sexual innuendo isn't going to pass with Grissom."

"First of all, I consider it witty bantering and secondly, I wouldn't be doing it in front of Grissom."

She licked her knife clean and he shook his head, laughing.

"What?"

"You have the manners of a little boy."

"What were you saying?" she muttered, threateningly pointing the knife down at his groin.

"You should have gone to one of the Finishing schools in the south," he said lightly before taking a rather large bite of pancake.

"Says the man who just shoved half his pancake into his fat mouth."

"Finishing School is for girls and since I apparently have a fat mouth, I can fit half of my pancake in it."

"Aren't we cheeky in the morning?"

"You're just as bad," he quipped, smiling innocently at her.

"You should be damn glad that you're good in bed."

"Why's that?"

"Or else I'd slap you silly with that mouth of yours," she teased but he caught the undertone in her voice and chortled.

"Are you just with me for the mind-blowing sex then?"

"I wouldn't call it 'mind-blowing.'"

"That's what you called it earlier."

"Yes, that was before I had sex with you."

"Then what would you call it?"

"Earth shattering, toe-curling, headboard banging, up against the wall, melt into a pool of liquid lust, _mind-blowing_ sex."

He looked at her stoically, chewing and then swallowing. When he spoke his voice was even and honest but without any emotion whatsoever. "Wow. That's some hot sex."

"Yes, yes it is."

Her breakfast finished and any trace of syrup was gone from her plate. It basically looked like it had just come out of the dishwasher.

"Now I have to imagine being on the end of that kind of sex," he mused, wondering if she would catch his implication. She did and looked like she was going to kill him.

"Calm down, darlin'. I'm just kidding," he laughed.

"You really have a death wish this morning, don't you?"

"No, I just really like teasing you is all. Sar, you know you're damn good in bed."

She snorted and looked in the other direction while he grabbed her by the hand and hauled her into his lap, brushing the chestnut hair out of her face.

"You're damn good in bed, a beautiful woman, a helluva CSI and fuck me if you're not the most intelligent person I know."

"Interesting choice of words, potty mouth."

"Do I always have to lay on the southern charm?" he drawled, smiling at her with all white teeth.

"It wouldn't hurt."

"But more importantly, we need to clean up this mess and get ready. You probably need to stop by your place for some new clothes?"

"I still have some pants and a shirt that I haven't worn."

"I'm not surprised since you've been wearing my shirts and boxers for the past couple of days."

"I like them. They're comfy and they smell nice."

"You can smell like me all you want, darlin', but for now, help me with these dishes."


	20. Scratched

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them, don't profit from them, and I didn't create them. And what a damn shame too.

**Rating:** I think I'll end things on a high note.

**A/N:** Camilla: I'm glad that you noticed that the cherry massage oil was unfortunately left out. Don't worry; I have had intentions on using it personally on George all along. In due time, in due time.

Charli: Not only do I love your motto, but I also agree with it completely… though I imagine there would be times when I would rather do it and deal with it later than not do it at all. As for the shower scene, it branched out from this idea where I had Nick and Sara implementing the crime scene because Catherine made them. I don't really know where I come up with this stuff. I just do.

And that's right folks. This is the _final_ chapter to 'Quarantine.' But don't worry, I'll come up with a new story about our favorite couple soon enough. In fact, I kind of have one now…

**Dedications:** To everyone who read and/ or reviewed this story. I love you guys! And to Camilla: consider the cherry massage oil. As well as DarkDreamer and Kate: I like being inspirational and enjoy knowing that something comes out of what I write.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Scratched**

And so there Nick and Sara were, already getting accustomed to their old routines that had not been forgotten over the course of a few days. The receptionist had given them a smirk as well as a knowing wink, not to mention that every other coworker seemed to smile at them in a more than friendly matter. Apparently everything had been spilled to the entire lab just when the two had thought that it had been kept to the tight circle of CSIs and the one lab tech.

There was a slightly awkward tension between Grissom and two of his CSIs when he handed out case folders for everyone. It wasn't a surprise that Sara wasn't working with Nick. In fact, she was with Grissom and Catherine while Nick was with Warrick. She couldn't remember the last time the two men had been on a case together. Maybe it was because every time they worked the same assignment, there was usually more betting and competition involved than hard work. But they did solve what ever was given to them and no one seemed to really complain. Only Sara, who was robbed of admiring the Texan's cute behind all day.

It was all for the better, Sara decided, getting up from her seat and following her blonde female coworker out of the break room. If she and Nick worked together the UST (unresolved sexual tension) would definitely come out by the end of the shift. There were already lingering looks cast in her direction from the subtle man adorning a simple but tight white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He looked unusually casual for work but the heat had affected everyone's choice of dress. That was, of course, not including Catherine who wore a burgundy turtleneck. Lucky for her, the shirt was sleeveless or else Warrick would be ripped a new one for another day she had to wear too much clothing.

That was undoubtedly something Sara had noticed: the relationship between Warrick and Catherine. There had always been something there, everyone knew that, but over the course of thirty minutes Sara had witnessed how Warrick's eyes never left Catherine's and Catherine couldn't control her tongue caressing her upper lip or her gaze roaming over Warrick's body. Sara wondered if her and Nick had been as "subtle" as the two of them had been. Probably not, she concluded.

The four CSIs had gathered in the locker room, grabbing their necessities and indulging in light conversation.

"So did you two enjoy your time off?" questioned Catherine, slipping on a black baseball hat, one that belonged to the lab. Her, Grissom, and Sar were working in the desert that evening but it was still daylight and hot as hell.

"Yeah, actually, until I got a call from Grissom," responded Nick, shrugging on his vest. He noted that Sara absentmindedly licked her lips.

"What did you guys do?"

Catherine was always one for prodding, though Warrick to himself, smiling approvingly at the blonde beside him. It was easier for her to get information out of people than it was for him.

"Not much," was the flippant reply.

Sara closed and locked her locker before leaning back against it. "What about you two? Did someone finally get that massage?"

There was a silent exchange between Warrick and Catherine, involving a lust-filled glance and then gazes looking in opposite directions. There was a moment of silence before Sara's question was answered.

"You could say that."

"Well?"

"I don't kiss and tell," was Catherine's quick answer, an innocent smile playing on her lips.

"Come on, Nick. We'd better get going," jumped in Warrick.

"All right."

Nick fought the urge to give Sara's cheek a kiss as he left, but his hand did settle on the small of her back for a brief moment as their eyes met. She saw what he wanted to do but knew that it was better if they didn't. It wasn't that it wasn't allowed or that Warrick and Catherine didn't know, because they did, but it was something that if they got accustomed to doing it might escalade into a kiss on the lips and then more.

Sara watched Nick's backside as he left and it seemed that Catherine was just as spellbound by Warrick. However, Catherine and been caught by Sara, not the other way around.

"You've got to tell me everything," gushed Sara, her mouth in the form of a grin.

"Now why would I do that?' inquired Catherine, looking at her coworker beside her as they walked together down the hall, away from the locker room.

"Because I'll tell you what really happened during mine and Nick's time off."

"Didn't we just have a case like this a month ago?" questioned Nick, snapping another picture of the blood spatter on the wall.

"After a while, they all start to look the same," mumbled Warrick, lifting a print of the glass he found on the coffee table before the couch.

"How do you think it all went down?" Nick turned and faced his friend bent over the long wooden table.

"I have no idea."

"Oh come on. You usually have a few strong hypothesis' running through that brain of yours."

Warrick stood upright, glancing around the dark room from the broken window of the back door to the pool of blood beside Nick and the overturned furniture throughout the house.

"I don't know if I believe that it was a simple B and E gone wrong."

"Evidence?"

"Hunch."

"You know Grissom doesn't believe in those."

"Not entirely, he doesn't. There just doesn't seem anything here to steal. The wife said the only thing stolen was a set of golf clubs from the garage. I mean, there is plenty of goods to steal but they go for the clubs? I don't think so."

"What do you think then?"

"She's hiding something."

"We need to find those clubs."

"Think we should head back to the lab?"

"Yeah. I'll call Brass about the witness."

"Meet you in the car."

Warrick gathered his half of the evidence and headed outside in the daylight of the early morning to his car parked on the street. Processing that crime scene had been particularly grueling because of all of the blood spatter and the house practically turned upside down.

A minute later Nick was in the passenger seat of the car beside Warrick, buckling himself in.

"So, Rick. What _really_ happened with Catherine?"

Warrick sent him a side-glance before turning his attention back to the road. "What _really_ happened with you and Sara?"

The man beside him chuckled low in his throat and rubbed his stubble-covered jaw. "What do you think happened?"

"I don't think you guys made it out of the bedroom much."

"That's not entirely true. The shower was used a lot, not to mention the kitchen counter, and a couple of walls…" trailed off Nick, looking at his friend with a cocky and smug grin on his face.

"Well, Catherine and I never really made that much use of my place."

"Just how much use exactly?"

"The bed…three times."

Nick whistled low, the smile still on his lips. "I'm glad you two finally hooked up."

"Yeah. Me too. And I'm glad that you and Sar won't be flirting constantly any more."

"Who said we were stopping?"

A pair of eyes were rolled at Nick as they pulled into the parking lot of the crime lab. "I don't think I will be able to handle the two of you now. The break room table will probably have to be sanitized hourly."

"I like to think that I can keep it in my pants," Nick coolly replied, unzipping the vest that he wore as he strolled into the locker room.

"Yeah, sure."

Nick heard something hit the bench soundly and he turned to see what it was.

"My wallet!" he exclaimed, reaching down to pick it up.

His hand stopped in midair as Warrick placed a torn foil wrapper on top.

"You think you can really keep it in your pants?"

The wallet slipped into Nick's back pocket but he left the condom wrapper forsaken.

"I've been looking for this for a week and you've had it all along?"

"Yeah."

"When did you find it?"

"You forgot it after you and Sara made use of the showers," stated Warrick, nodding in the general direction behind Nick where the showers were.

"Thanks, man."

"No problem."

Nick grabbed his jacket, cell phone and keys before closing the door to his locker.

"So it seems that you've scratched that itch?"

Chestnut eyes flashed up to meet cool blue ones. There was a fierceness and something else in the former that anyone could recognize as lust. Apparently, the itch had not been completely scratched and Warrick wondered if it truly ever would be.

"Not exactly."

Warrick smiled knowingly and reached into his locker to pull something out of his backpack. Instinctively, Nick caught whatever it was that his friend tossed to him. Nick turned the bottle in his hand so that he could read the label.

"Cherry body massage oil?" Nick read aloud, raising an eyebrow at Warrick.

"Something to help quell the itch."

Nick eyed it curiously, flipping it over to read the back of the bottle.

"Though it might only make things worse."

"I can handle that. Ever tried it before?"

"Only in raspberry and strawberry."

"Any good?"

"_Very_ good."

Following Warrick out of the room, Nick continued to read the rest of the label on the bottle as they made their way to the break room. He looked up just in time to see their two female coworkers sitting down and eating at the table. Before anyone could see what he held in his grasp, Nick slipped the bottle into the front pocket of his pants.

"Taking a break?" asked Nick nonchalantly, resting a friendly hand on Catherine's bare shoulder.

"Yeah. All the smells of the restaurant made us hungry," she answered through a mouthful of Chinese food.

"Restaurant?"

"Yeah. Our case."

"Oh," he nodded, heading towards the counter where the coffee sat. Sara was brewing a new pot and it was nearly finished.

Nick leaned back against the edge of the counter, folding his arms over his muscled chest as he watched Sara's back covered in the flimsy material of her low-cut tank top. Her shoulders were slightly tanned from the Vegas sun and smooth as silk. There was an urge in him to bite into her shoulder, running his tongue across her flesh and tasting it. There were times like these when Nick wondered if he really could work with her without hoisting her up onto the table and screwing her until it hurt for her to walk. Sara looked over her shoulder and he flickered his gaze elsewhere just in time.

The two of them were left alone a moment later after Catherine had finished her meal and left with Warrick. The wink that Catherine sent Sara was not unseen by Nick but he chose to ignore it.

When Nick was sure that everyone was out of sight, he stood close behind Sara and brushed her hair away from her shoulder. His fingers lifted the strap of her bra and tank top off her shoulder, letting it fall onto her arm. Without making any noise, Nick pulled out the bottle of massage oil, flicked open the top and poured a line from the curve of her neck to the tip of her shoulder. She gasped out the coolness of it, angling her head to look back at him. But what she saw was his eyes staring into hers as his tongue cleaned the oil off her shoulder. He dropped the bottle into her lap and she picked it up curiously.

"Cherry massage oil?"

"You're missing the best part," he murmured into her ear as he flicked his tongue out to catch the lobe.

"What's that?"

"_Edible_ cherry massage oil."

"Nick Stokes, where did you get this from?"

"Warrick. Said the stuff is 'very good.'"

"Oh really?"

"Let's go home, Sar. I've got an itch to scratch."

**FINISHED! FINI! TERMINA! MUAHAHAHAHAHA….!**


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